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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197003">Fickle Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltageStone/pseuds/VoltageStone'>VoltageStone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I'm Working on It!!! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Little Witch Academia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Diakko, Dianakko, Does it Sail?, F/F, Finnelariot, Minor Hammanda, Sexual Content, Unorthodox relationship, age gap, crackfic, crackship, three-shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:54:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltageStone/pseuds/VoltageStone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ursula Callistis, though perpetually nervous around her, always had an eye for her senior. She couldn't explain it. And never would she try—how would you even begin to fathom it? What's more, Ursula never would've guessed that Anne Finnelan would have her attention captured. But again, she didn't question it.</p><p>Both professors made a promise to be only women for one night—this once in a blue moon—until dawn. On Friday the 13th, no less. And after that, there would be nothing left to say. …or, well, that's what was said.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diana Cavendish/Atsuko "Akko" Kagari, Hannah England/Amanda O'Neill, Ursula Callistis | Chariot du Nord/Anne Finnelan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I'm Working on It!!! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fickle Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/676732">Stalker's Tango</a> by Autoheart.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know either. This is what I get for studying all day, and all of my pent-up writing instincts kick in as I'm about to fall asleep (and a long trip down the Tumblr rabbit hole). All I know is 1) Ursula perfect, and 2) Finnelan is like play-dough with her character. And if you're from Tumblr…hi. Uh, yeah, truth be told, I don't know what's going on. Thanks for joining me in the deep-end. xD</p><p>Anyway, uh, yeah. Take this as me trying to convince you (and myself) that this crack-of-a-ship could work? I dunno…</p><p>Hope you enjoy nonetheless!<br/>:D</p><p>PS: While writing this, I did listen to Stalker's Tango (by Autohearts) and…somehow that was the tone I went into writing this? Yeah, I'm still baffled by how I got here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Never had she ever <em>directly </em>praised Ursula. Never had she ever smiled for Ursula. Never had she ever failed to criticize Ursula and her mistakes.</p><p>The young professor lingered in the hall, eyes out the window and down to the courtyard below. With a light smile, she watched students as they studied, ate, or just talked. Her gaze was fond to see them sat underneath the shade or out in the open, lush grass. Another simple, cherished observation of her students. And for a long moment, Professor Ursula didn't break away, allowing herself the minute from her deepest thoughts. Their lives were so simple, even if they'd argue otherwise with textbooks, classwork and exams as their evidence. Ursula's small grin thinned to a reflective line. Then again, she couldn't know <em>all</em> of the intricacies of their lives. What little, brief thoughts would infest into bewitching fantasies if they let them.</p><p>Professor Ursula pushed herself away from the window, a hefty book held flat against her chest within her tight arms. With her head down, soft eyes behind her glasses, Ursula reeled back into the depths of herself—memories, duties, schoolwork.</p><p>She may have never directly praised Ursula, but every fond remark about the research she received was invaluable. She may have never shared a smile with Ursula, but a soft gaze and the relaxed, studious lines of her face spoke volumes. She may have never passed the opportunity to criticize Ursula, but every time the urgency to correct the young woman to become better—if through a scowl—was heard.</p><p>Her grip around the book tightened. It had always been this way for Ursula. From the moments she passed by her classroom, to the late hours of deliberating over research and countless other projects. Every moment, Ursula found herself infatuated with no reason other than lustful desire... That was it, wasn't it? The young witch was just curious. She didn't <em>really</em> want her. She didn't <em>really</em> want to wake up by her side every morning, a glimmering ring at her finger, fitting ever so comfortably and— No. Ursula just wanted to know and see what she'd look like in bed, hair down, scowl wiped clean and replaced with darkened desire. Yes, that was it—<em>that</em> was it. In the late hours in her suite—the observatory—when she couldn't go to sleep, Ursula would fantasize. And nights of self-pleasure they'd become.</p><p>A dream to only fuel those lonely nights, and spin a wicked web of confusion whenever Ursula thought to herself. Which was often. Every day often. So often that—</p><p>Ursula stumbled with a gasp, the book almost slipping from her hands. With her heart hammering against her ribs in powerful beats, the professor hissed and looked to her boot. <em>Again</em> she'd tripped over the damn rug. Ursula tugged her boot from underneath the decorative piece with a sigh, then glanced across the hall. Her voice was caught, and her stomach twisted. Jaw clenched, she strode briskly away with cheeks scorched, avoiding those grey eyes.</p><p>"Professor Callistis!"</p><p>She jerked to a ungraceful halt and looked meekly over her shoulder. "Yes, Professor Finnelan?" she asked quietly.</p><p>The older woman halted in front of her, arms crossed. Her grey eyes peered down at Ursula from underneath the brim of her hat, and her signature scowl was set in place. Though, her tone wasn't with its usual authorization, and the edges of her words were gentle—for Finnelan, anyway. They could still cut stone, but with a <em>gentle</em> warning. "Do you have those papers regarding the tadpoles Lukić found in the academy's pond?"</p><p>"O-Oh, yes, I do," Ursula answered with a nod. "They're in the observatory. Do you want me to get them now?"</p><p>"That would be best," Professor Finnelan muttered. She turned around briskly, and added, "I expect you in ten, Ursula."</p><p>With a stammer, she replied, "I— Ah, yeah, okay!" Professor Ursula remained fixed to her spot as she watched Finnelan turn the corner, the few students who strolled leisurely to their Friday mid-morning classes, minding their space. All at once, Ursula started and turned around, her pace determined towards the observatory. She swallowed as her chest tensed in a fit of nerves. Her curiosity bloomed, fighting against her responsibilities.</p><p>Though, because Anne Finnelan certainly wouldn't want her a moment late, her responsibilities won and shoved Ursula's curiosity to the back of her mind—for a later day, or another lonely night.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — —</strong>
</p><p>Sat on either side of a vast desk were two witches. One meek, with her hands and knees together, in front of the desk. The other sat in a large armchair, highlighted by the two great windows that flanked the desk-space with sunlight.</p><p>Anne Finnelan considered herself quite the exemplary professor, what with her self-regulated routines and all. Every morning, a spot of strong tea to get the fire burning, a shower to cleanse whatever grievances plagued her the day before, straight to her office to prepare for the lessons, profess her knowledge, send the students their way, back to her office for more preparations and research, more professing, get to the duties of the school... Rigorous. Methodical. Finnelan.</p><p>She turned the page of the healthy packet laid in front of her, firm brows furrowed above narrowed eyes and her strong nose. Professor Finnelan glanced up from above the line of the papers in her hands, scowl sustained. "Very interesting, Professor Ursula," she commented, with the additional, "I see there would be no need to disinfect the pond if these truly are horned-frog tadpoles?"</p><p>Ursula nodded, in the student's chair with her hands fidgeting across her lap. "Yes, that's right. By the time they're adults, they'll be helping clean the pond instead. Their eggs are just flaking, that's all."</p><p>"Yes, of course," Finnelan murmured. She eyed Ursula carefully for a moment. The young witch truly did puzzle her. She had an extraordinary talent in magic—that Finnelan could admit. And yet, Ursula was so...plain. <em>Dull.</em> Could blend into the background if need be, and (majority of the time) not by choice. So quiet, and unsure, and mellow... Everything about <em>her</em> was a contrast to those eyes of fire. Finnelan went back to the notes and receipts of textbooks. She skimmed the research again and again, though it quickly became that of a mindless activity. From time to time, Finnelan had to remind herself that Ursula Callistis was once her student—within the first few years of her teaching at Luna Nova. Headmistress Holbrooke had said so, though in every instance that Anne wracked her brain, there was no Ursula. And Finnelan took pride in recalling every student of hers, even if they were insufferable or mute; again: rigorous, methodical, Finnelan.</p><p>She watched Ursula get to her feet and meander towards one of the tall windows—on the right—, eyes down to where Finnelan assumed students were. Professor Finnelan's brow tightened. Ursula... Ursula... Had she been such an insignificant student to be completely erased from Finnelan's recollection?</p><p>Grey eyes closed, then forced themselves back to the papers, away from the curious witch. Finnelan stacked them neatly, and closed the folder they had been bound to. She stood from her desk and gravitated to the other window. With her hands pressed and folded behind her back, she watched down below. Many young, aspiring witches at their social hour. Eating. Talking. Studying (somewhat). With a breath and curiosity abound, Anne asked, "Do you remember being a student here?"</p><p>From the corner of her eyes, she caught Ursula's jerk to attention. And, she found, it wasn't so unusual to startle Professor Ursula. Again...so quiet and unsure and mellow. She didn't understand it. "O-Oh, uh, yeah, I do. It was some time ago now, though." Finnelan hummed to herself. She then heard her chuckle, quietly, before Ursula added, "And you were one of my professors, actually."</p><p>"And when would've that been? The years have flown too quickly," Finnelan replied. She felt Ursula's gaze search for hers, and so Professor Finnelan turned towards her, expression still cold.</p><p>From behind those glasses, however, eyes of fire captured the wonderment from her own. Anne turned away to observe the fields below as Ursula took her time to answer. "I think...it was your first few years? You weren't here until I was a second-year," her colleague answered. "So, it was a while ago, if you didn't remember me."</p><p>Rooted to the spot, Professor Finnelan hardened, and her gaze searched the clouds for nothing in particular. She swallowed, and abruptly found guilt slithering about her stomach. Ursula truly was insignificant...? Anne didn't want to believe it; she stood in silence, her thumb rubbing the knuckle of her other hand in nervous thought. The more she searched, the harder it was to say otherwise. Nevertheless, Anne murmured, "Oh, yes, I see." Something irked her, prodding for her to spill more words from her tongue. She obliged, and said, "Well, you have...proved yourself to be a remarkable asset to Luna Nova, even if it isn't routinely acknowledged."</p><p>"I... I..." The two remained silent as Ursula collected herself, stunned. "Thank-you, professor."</p><p>Finnelan only nodded once. A knock on the door interrupted another potential lapse of silence. "Yes?" Professor Finnelan asked from across the room.</p><p>The door opened, and Headmistress Holbrooke—a charmed, little old woman with a contagious smile—stepped in. "Oh, why there you two are!"</p><p>"Oh, uh, were you looking for us?" Ursula asked as Miranda joined Professor Finnelan's side.</p><p>"No, not really," the woman said with her grin. "I was just wandering the halls and wondered if you two were in here. I assume you were looking into the pond?"</p><p>Finnelan was the one to answer: "Yes. From Professor Callistis' findings, we wouldn't have to worry. They're horned frogs, is all."</p><p>"Oh, what a delight that is!" the headmistress mused, looking out to the forest from the window. "Those little things are always cute. We'd have to remind the students not to remove them from the pond if we're sure to keep them."</p><p>"Yes..." Finnelan kept to herself as Miranda hummed, gazing out the window with a smile. Grey eyes quickly darted back to Ursula before reserving them for the clouds. Ursula... Ursula... Had she truly taught her? Finnelan folded her arms across her chest, with her jaw set, and her eyes gravitated towards Ursula absentmindedly. She was leaned against the window on the other side, red eyes soft and reminiscent. They seemed almost dream-like to Anne. And the light that was captured in her glasses, it also smoothed itself across her skin, and gave her dull blue hair what little life it could muster in color.</p><p>Miranda, beside her, chuckled and said, "Oh what a lovely day, even if it's Friday the thirteenth; many bizarre things may come to light, no? I heard some of the students were planning on throwing little celebrations in their dorms."</p><p>Professor Finnelan tore her lingering gaze from Ursula with a gruff sigh. "So long as they keep it to their dorms and don't disrupt the fairies."</p><p>"Ah, yes, that is true. They can't stray too far away from their studies," the headmistress admitted. "But, at the same time, there's nothing wrong with letting your hair down once and awhile." Her attention turned to Professor Ursula, who was still only partially listening. "Wouldn't you say so, dear?"</p><p>"Yes, I suppose..." Ursula murmured softly.</p><p>Miranda smiled with a quirk of an eyebrow. "Do you have a strapping young man in your sights down in the town?"</p><p>"Headmistress!" Finnelan hissed, blindsided.</p><p>Ursula only chuckled lightly with a wave of her hand. "Oh, n-no... I've never...really...paid attention to men."</p><p>"Oh!" Miranda giggled, ignoring Professor Finnelan's wide, aghast stare targeted at her shoulder. "Well then, a young gentlewoman from one of the shops perhaps?"</p><p>"I...uh... Heh." Ursula swallowed, a blush reaping her cheeks as she scratched along her choker. Her eyes met Anne's, and within them bore the naked truth—coagulated with embarrassment. Within them, Professor Finnelan caught the jagged edges of curiosity, the cracks of lust, and the steam of growing humiliation. Ursula jerked her gaze away, her blush having grown to her ears, and mumbled, "Uh... N-No."</p><p>Anne's stare was set on the edge of her desk, unfocused as she was plunged into the midst of bewilderment. She barely heard Miranda's question: "And you, Anne?"</p><p>That certainly snapped her out of her brief stupor. "Headmistress! Honestly, my <em>word!</em>"</p><p>Miranda chuckled to herself, and said, "Oh, I was just wondering if anything had changed in the past few decades." Finnelan scoffed lightly, turned her head away, and forced her stare to the fields below where the majority of students had left. "Still," Miranda sighed, "this would be the perfect day to let loose."</p><p>"With the students throwing parties in their rooms?"</p><p>"Why not, dear?"</p><p>"<em>Because,</em>" Anne grumbled haughtily, "<em>someone</em> should be responsible to keep them in line."</p><p>Headmistress Holbrooke <em>thunked</em><em>!</em> the ball of her staff into Anne's stomach, which doubly floored the professor. "<em>You </em>are free tonight, if I recall correctly. Lukić and Samantha are on duty, remember? I wouldn't let the time go to waste, dear."</p><p>"I still haven't a clue of what you're insinuating," Finnelan retorted.</p><p>"To have a little fun, Anne. I almost believe you've forgotten it," Miranda answered with a mischievously wise eye. And Anne couldn't exactly <em>argue</em> otherwise: it wasn't far from the truth. She had fond memories of carefree delight, but that was all. So, she didn't respond to the headmistress. To no avail apparently. The headmistress continued anyway: "Oh, Anne. It's quite funny, especially when you consider what type of student you were in your first semester..." Anne stood as frozen as stone, eyes focused on the frames of the window. Headmistress Holbrooke nodded to Ursula, who perked out of curiosity. "Would <em>you</em> like to hear about it, dear?"</p><p>"Miranda!"</p><p>Ursula chuckled quietly, and said, "Sure."</p><p>Headmistress Holbrooke giggled excitedly. "Well, it was quite some time ago, you know. I had a little bit more green in my hair. And this was one of the last few years that I taught as a professor here, you see," she started with a smile. "Now, Anne here got caught up with Nelson—who was also a little bit of a rebel... Neither were bad students, of course, just got out of hand at times. But, they were out with their brooms one day, and I still have no clue as to what they were doing... A race or some match of skill, was it?" Anne didn't answer, still frozen out of pure shock rather than forced-indifference. "I don't know," Miranda said, noting, "that may have been it. Those two were always so eager on brooms... Anyway, that day, they took out one of the columns in the New Moon tower!"</p><p>Anne.</p><p>Was.</p><p>
  <em>Floored.</em>
</p><p>Professor Ursula gasped, eyes wide. "Really?! Was it the loose one?"</p><p>"Yes, it was!" Miranda nodded, and claimed, "And, now, I was outrageously angry at that time, as one <em>would </em>be. Had them clean it themselves and everything... Of course, I suspect Nelson roped her into it—"</p><p>"<em>Headmistress!</em>" Finnelan finally managed to wheeze, her head resembling a tea kettle with the heat rising in her cheeks.</p><p>"—but still. Anyway, those were the days," Miranda concluded simply. Her gaze was reminiscent. Anne's gaze was humiliated. Ursula's gaze was amused. The headmistress then paused, thought with her hands clasped over her staff, and added, "You know, she used to have her hair down, then. It was so lovely. Long and curly. I almost forgot with it up all the time—"</p><p>Professor Finnelan inhaled sharply. Her arms were folded, and she snapped, "Headmistress, <em>please!</em>" Her cheeks were fuming a storm. "I believe that semester has long since passed, and I am quite honestly not that girl!"</p><p>"Oh, but you do still prefer honey instead of syrup, hmm?" </p><p>And when the professor opened her mouth to argue, then found that she—yet again—<em>couldn't,</em> the headmistress smiled gently. The victorious gleam in her eye was the only addition. But it wasn't even that which eradicated Anne's embarrassment (if your senior laughing at you ever would've to begin with...). No. Instead, it was Ursula's light chuckle from the window. Finnelan watched, and if one were to pay close attention—put aside her stern brows and stretched, aghast, scowl—, they would find curiosity in her interwoven with her stare.</p><p>Ursula... Ursula... Yet another peculiarity. She was plain. Dull. Finnelan couldn't remember a fragment of the woman as her student. And yet. And. <em>Yet,</em> she felt as if she heard that soft laughter before. So kind and gentle... The more she pondered, the more Anne felt the old brittle familiarity die—the instances where she searched for an Ursula Callistis as a student—, only for it to then be reborn as a fond observation. Another one to the growing pile. The prior week, it was the line of her collar bone. The month before, the gasp as she tumbled, buried beneath books. And the semester before, Ursula without her glasses nor her hat, responsibly grading her students' work with a thorough eye. Once her eyes of fire had caught grey, when Professor Finnelan stepped up to her desk, Ursula had grinned sheepishly and had greeted her with a mellow voice.</p><p>Professor Finnelan's jerk to reality was subtle, and she found that she was watching a flock of geese fly past the window. She didn't know what Ursula and Miranda said—if they did at all—before their conversation devolved into observing the forest and fields, sky and students.</p><p>The door creaked open after a hardened knock, and Professor Badcock slipped into the room with a hand flattening her green overcoat. "There you are, Miranda. I was looking for you, about the shipment coming in next week?"</p><p>"Ah, yes, of course," Headmistress Holbrooke said softly. "Well, best I go and figure that out. See you later, ladies."</p><p>"Okay, headmistress," Professor Ursula replied. Once the two whisked themselves out the door, the pair left behind stood on either side of the grand desk, eyes wandering to everything but one another. Ursula's gaze landed on the grandfather clock that was hugged between two bookshelves. "Oh! I have my lesson in thirty. I'll start getting ready for it."</p><p>"Alright..." Anne murmured, still caught within her web of thoughts. She watched her colleague stride out the room, and when Ursula looked over her shoulder, their gazes finally met. Professor Finnelan's didn't have the chance to move; Ursula simply slipped away, without so much another word. Anne lingered by the window before she, too, decided that she'd better prepare for her own lecture.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>"Professor Ursula?"</p><p>Ursula turned from her desk and the piles of homework curiously. "Yes, Amanda?" she asked. Her class, as always, was lively with students settled around their tables, completing their work with a passion; a youthful, respectful teacher could do that, apparently, which was something those far older envied. In Amanda O'Neill's hands was a white-fogged crystal ball, a light with the barest of glows at its center. Ursula blinked. "Oh, it looks like yours is a bit tricky," she hummed.</p><p>"Yeah. I can't read a damn thing from it," Amanda sighed, handing it over with great care.</p><p>With a quiet smile, Professor Ursula warned, "Language, Miss O'Neill."</p><p>"Yeah, okay. Whatever."</p><p>Ursula shook her head, grin maintained, as she tapped the ball with the end of her wand. The crystal ball shuttered, then the fog cleared, revealing... Ursula frowned, then eyed Amanda who's ears grew pink, cheeks red. "I'm assuming you're the one who was being read?" she asked calmly, eyes drawn away from Amanda O'Neill and Hannah England snuggling on a couch, dozing away within each other's arms.</p><p>"Uh—" Amanda coughed, nodded, and sputtered, "Y-Yeah..." Her eyes grew wide. "Could you not tell anyone, <em>please?!</em> I don't want them to know <em>that!</em>"</p><p>"I won't," Ursula promised, "<em>if</em> you quit tampering with the crystal ball to hide it." With a wave of her hand, the image cleared.</p><p>"Oh, th-thanks professor." Delicately, the ball was passed into her hands. It wobbled, causing both to momentarily panic before Amanda ultimately nestled it within her arms. Together they breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>Ursula, with her fingers interlaced, said, "Good. Certainly don't want to drop one of these."</p><p>Amanda nodded. "Yeah. I assumed that after you lectured us about it." She paused, then asked, "What...<em>does</em> happen if you drop it?"</p><p>"Well," the professor answered slowly, "the emotional value of every reading is stored in these particular crystals. The younger and less readings it has, the less it has to lose, but it has less accuracy and precision when active. These are all quite old, quite tricky at times, and breaking them can be...explosive."</p><p>"E-<em>Explosive?!</em>"</p><p>"Yeah, kind of like—"</p><p>All at once, a shriek lobotomized the room into a spasm of startled terror, students frantically careening to their tables or the walls. Everything trembled as the earth seemed to quake. Amanda yelped, throwing herself to the floor to catch the crystal ball with her stomach, and Ursula scrambled backwards into her desk—which slammed itself into the wall, thus sending the professor flat on the ground. And once everything was still, a few scattered croaks and groans erupted from beneath furniture.</p><p>The longest and most painful, however, came from the ceiling. Ursula winced through her whisper: "Oh...Akko..." Atsuko Kagari, by the back of her vest, hung from a chandelier. It was apparent she'd been catapulted directly upwards from the fine dust piled on the ground—what was once a crystal ball. Both the blue team and the rest of the red team were slumped along the floor around it.</p><p>Diana and Barbara were the first to stagger to their feet, having been slammed into the wall, the latter hissing, "If this is what we get working with you, I'm <em>done!</em> Akko! I said let <em>Hannah hold it!</em>" Hannah, who, couldn't even give a ghost of a moan, a mass of unconscious witch on the ground almost directly beside the decimated pile. (Again, <em>unconscious</em>...not <em>dead</em>, as checked by Barbara's fumbling hands.) Barbara could've <em>sworn</em> that she was smoking at the back of her vest. </p><p>Akko's legs flailed, and she tugged her skirt to hide the revealing parts of her body (which said a lot, knowing her skirt length). "DON'T LOOK UP HERE! ONLY DIANA'S ALLOWED!" she snarled. And speaking of, Akko turned to Diana Cavendish, who had her head in her tight hand with a burning face. "D-Diana...? Could you...help me?"</p><p>"Give me a moment to collect myself, Akko," Diana breathed quietly, quite utterly flustered.</p><p>Professor Ursula got to her feet at a ginger pace, Amanda still on the ground. "Jesus... She blew up Hannah...!" the student grumbled. "You call that just <em>explosive?!</em>"</p><p>"Well, it <em>is</em><em>,</em>" Ursula sighed. Her uneasy stance erected to one of alarm at the sound of distant heels clipping the halls and getting <em>closer by themilisecond— </em>"Get up, Amanda!" she hissed, flinging the student to her feet with one arm. Amanda uttered a strangled wheeze from the base of her throat, clutching the crystal ball as an egg to a hen. Just as her pair of Converse planted themselves to the spot, the classroom door barreled open. The handle bashed against the wall as necks snapped to the ballistic witch in its doorway.</p><p>"WHAT IN DAMNATION WAS THAT?!" Professor Finnelan shrilled, a fine red in the face. "MYSELF AND HALF OF MY CLASS WERE SENT TO THE GROUND FOR NO—!" Her livid stare landed on Akko, who now was precariously gravitated to the ground by a wide-eyed Diana. Akko landed squarely with the frame of a plank, arms strapped to her sides, shoulders clenched to her neck. Finnelan's heels almost crackled against the wood floor as she stalked her way to the student; if she were to have been a dragon, dark fumes would've certainly been curdling from her flared nostrils and snarled lips. "Why...are you...the resident demolitionist?" Professor Finnelan hissed lowly.</p><p>With great caution, Professor Ursula stepped forward as Akko stuttered for words. And when she couldn't find any, Finnelan snapped, "Now, Miss Kagari."</p><p>"I— Err— We..." Akko choked on her own rapid anxiety, tensed, then exhaled in defeat. She tore her eyes away from the professor to glance at her mentor. Even Professor Ursula's gentle smile of comfort barely moved her. Akko stared at her feet, silent.</p><p>"I see," Professor Finnelan murmured tightly. "After class, I expect to speak to both of you."</p><p>Akko wrenched her gaze up. "...both of us?" she rattled.</p><p>"Kagari—" Finnelan scowled over her shoulder— "<em>and</em> Callistis." With that, she twisted at her heel, stormed across the room, and slammed the door.</p><p>The classroom was dead silent. Even Barbara, who'd been so outrageously <em>pissed</em> at Akko's slip, had all of the color washed from her face as she watched her classmate in pity.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>"This is quite <em>utterly</em> blasphemous! We only housed ten of those crystal balls, and not one had been dropped in a <em>decade</em><em>!</em> And not to mention we had our fair share of blundering, clumsy witches in that time! Do you hear me, Miss Kagari?!"</p><p>The three didn't even make it to Anne Finnelan's office before the rivaling arguments made themselves known. By that point, they were the only ones in the hallway, every witch or fairy having cleared themselves of the corridor entirely. Akko stood beside Ursula with a grimace, arms folded as she took the striking words. "Yes, I do! For the last time, I didn't <em>mean</em> to! Ours kept moving!"</p><p>Finnelan's eyes bulged. "You mean to tell <em>me</em> that <em>you</em> were assigned the <em>oldest crystal ball?!</em>" she snapped.</p><p>"D-Diana was, professor... Don't..." Professor Ursula tensed her jaw as grey eyes slid to her, unamused. She exhaled, and retorted, "I'm not going to have you get it twisted. The red team was paired with the blue, who had the crystal. It was an accident, professor, that's <em>it.</em>"</p><p>"Accidents-don't-disrupt-another's-class," Finnelan hissed through her teeth. She turned back to Akko. "Accidents don't happen more times than successes."</p><p>"I'm able to do a lot more things than before!" Akko protested. "I can even <em>fly</em> to the towers now! <em>Without</em> the Shiny Rod, even!"</p><p>"Oh really?!" Professor Finnelan shrilled, "The fact of the matter, Kagari, is that both blue and your teammates <em>combined</em> wouldn't be able to compensate for <em>your lack of ability!</em>" Akko shrunk from beside Ursula, who was stunned in her own right. "Time and time again," Finnelan hissed, "the reasoning behind your acceptance at Luna Nova is question—"</p><p>"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE!" Ursula snarled. Bewildered, Finnelan was wrenched out of her tirade to find Professor Ursula standing tall, absolute hostility within her eyes. Her teeth were bared as she hissed vowels, searching for her words. "I— You— Chatte! <em>You</em> do not get to speak to my student that way!" the woman continued, her steps forward curdled with anger. Anne staggered back. "I do not <em>care</em> if Akko makes mistakes! I do not <em>care</em> if they happen more than other students! She is at a school, God <em>damn it!</em> Where else are you allowed to make mistakes?! <em>AND </em>SHE COMES FROM ZERO EXPERIENCE WHERE ALL THE OTHERS HERE HAD THE<em> PRIVILEGE </em>OF COMING FROM A WITCH FAMILY!"</p><p>Finnelan blinked and snapped, hotly, "What gives <em>you</em> the right to speak to me like that?! You are just as—if not <em>more</em>—responsible for Kagari's actions as her personal mentor—!"</p><p>"Just because you are a more respected professor than I am does <em>not </em>mean I'll allow...!" Her words died as she heard the slightest sniff behind her. Ursula turned around, and her heart sunk. "Oh, Akko," she cooed gently. She stepped to her student, who shook and fought against the beads of tears that managed to leak from the corners of her eyes. "Come here," Ursula whispered.</p><p>With her arms wrapped around Atsuko, who curled against her with a shaken whine, eyes of an inferno glared over her shoulder to her senior. "I-I didn't mean—"</p><p>"It's okay," Ursula murmured quietly. "Just— I'll talk to her myself, okay? You don't need to be here. I'll find you in a little while, and we'll go over it then." They broke apart with Ursula's hands squeezing Akko's shoulders. "Okay?"</p><p>Akko only nodded, shot a tearful sneer at Finnelan, before bolting far away, around the corner.</p><p>Ursula Callistis' glare as she stood in the hall was one Finnelan would've never anticipated. Never would've imagined such a burning, coarse set of eyes from behind those glasses. Her stern brow tightened, and she growled, "Don't look at me like that."</p><p>"I can look at you how ever the fuck I want," Ursula hissed. Unsurprisingly, her senior was startled by her words. She pointed behind her, eyes steady on Finnelan, and murmured in a cold voice, "She is no less of a student than anyone else here. How could you...? We are supposed to guide her, <em>even</em> when she messes up. It was an accident. Those crystal balls had a long time coming with how active they were."</p><p>Professor Finnelan stepped forward. She would've loomed over Ursula if the young woman didn't stand her ground, her sharp stare cutting through Anne. "Coddling children does not help them grow."</p><p>"And degrading them stunts that growth," Ursula snapped.</p><p>A beast lurched in Finnelan's chest at the sight of the professor's ruthless demeanor, one that she didn't quite understand but used to fuel her retort: "Do you question me?! I cannot help it if a student never changes. Do you understand that, or can you not respect me enough to do so?"</p><p>Professor Ursula tightened her jaw with a shaken breath. "I question you <em>because</em> I respect you, professor," she whispered. Her voice was strained, at the brink from its control over her curdling frustration and...something else. Something Anne couldn't comprehend. "I don't understand why you have to be so <em>cruel</em> to her. She's a <em>student—</em>"</p><p>"<em>No!</em>"</p><p>She didn't know what to do with her hands, or her words—her thoughts. Everything became tangled with each other. Finnelan hissed and stamped forward. "If I'm not cruel, then how will anybody know the weight of—!"</p><p>Professor Finnelan stumbled over her words once she caught Ursula's wide gaze, the young woman plastered against the wall, both hands splayed beside her. They were close. <em>Too</em> close. Enough to where Anne could read the intricacies in her eyes. Her thoughts ran blank. Gradually, Finnelan found that her own hand strangled the side of Ursula's hood, and immediately she tore it away. Both of their quavering hearts, both of their rapid thoughts—Anne could <em>hear</em> them. But in those eyes of fire, the storm of emotions thawed her fury whole; from the height of her hat to the point of her boot, her temper drained. She blinked, and they both staggered to the side without uttering a single vowel, keeping one other at an arm's length <em>each</em>. </p><p>Finnelan watched Ursula for a moment. No, her eyes did not deceive her. Ursula Callistis was abruptly nervous, with a blush rapidly spreading across her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Her glare had been shunted away, revealing... Something shivered within Finnelan's chest; it was like watching the shenanigans of the puppy love her students caught, the same observed from behind her podium during lectures. Except...Ursula was an adult, and the swarm of emotions in her eyes—which she pointedly kept away from Anne—spoke to a greater beast.</p><p>Finnelan turned herself away, folded her arms, as Ursula sputtered, "I-I understand, professor. I will...be in my classroom for my notes. I— I think I misplaced them."</p><p>"Yes, go do that," Anne muttered firmly. She stayed in place as Professor Ursula strode away, eager to escape. Alone, Anne thinned her lips, and her fingertips rested against her collar. The surge of emotions that rattled her hadn't left. Her heart still pummeled rapidly, and her gut still tossed.</p><p><em>Ursula</em><em>...</em> Her stare hardened before abruptly softening, then it was trailed towards where the young witch had left her. <em>Is that why...you're always so eager to assist in my research?</em></p><p>Unknowing of what to do with herself, Finnelan tightened her hands before striding down the corridor, back to her office.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>"The witches during this time were relied upon. Yes, that is correct, Miss Bankole. Now, from reading the translation of the rune set behind me, who can tell me what responsibilities witches underwent because of this?"</p><p>A few hands rose directly around the student as she continued to compile her notes with a focused brow, though she herself hadn't. And it wasn't because she didn't <em>want</em> to, it was more so because Professor Finnelan's class was always rather complicated for her. Which was why it was the only class she took extensive notes on.</p><p>Professor Finnelan nodded to one of the higher rows. "Yes, Miss Eriksson?"</p><p>"Oh, um..."</p><p>Chariot du Nord's eyes followed her classmate's voice briefly, craned from the bottommost row. Janice Eriksson was a very pretty girl, and many of the other girls fawned after her—in appreciation if not adoration. Her eyes were a lovely sight, as was her curled, dark hair, and Janice was always put together. Not a difficult thing for wearing a school uniform, true, but somehow she did it...<em>perfectly</em>. Even her voice was smooth and inviting: "Wouldn't some of the responsibilities be like how we used to build a lot of the older buildings?"</p><p>"Yes, that's exactly right." Professor Finnelan nodded from behind her podium. Chariot turned to her, and her gut jolted in place. <em>Other</em> girls may have appreciated or adored Janice, though she never saw the appeal. And Chariot oh so wanted to—like the girls around her anyway. Watch them in their skirts and sashes. Help them with their books. Be in awe of their words. <em>Anything. </em>"Much of what witches did were to alleviate the amount of physical labor through magic..."</p><p>Chariot rubbed her bare neck from underneath her collar, then toyed with her tie as she wrote her notes. In every instance where her professor flicked her wand to change the blackboard behind her, eyes of fire would watch, consumed with infatuation. She'd study her firm posture, and her authoritative tone as Professor Finnelan professed her knowledge to the class. And, as she looked, Chariot saw how delightfully grey Finnelan's eyes were, and found herself enamored by her strong features—which reminded her of Alcor, who remained in his spot at her desk, tucked away from prying eyes.</p><p>Yet, even so, Finnelan was softer than the familiar. Her nose wasn't so much of a beak, but instead one resembling the strength of a Roman statue; her eyes, though, were just as piercing. If only Chariot could know her smile to compare. But she knew she wouldn't ever receive so much of one, and barely she saw the professor's light grin with others before. In those brief instances, however, it was absolutely a gem she kept to herself—not that either of her teammates would understand an ounce of it if they knew anyhow. Nor that she herself understood.</p><p>"Now, if you look at these four monuments scattered across Europe, you'll be able to see the marks of magic all over them..."</p><p>The fact of the matter was, the more Chariot looked at her, watched her, the more Professor Finnelan strayed away from the strict cow-of-a-witch. The more she became a studious and becoming woman.</p><p>Chariot set her quill down for a moment to flex her cramping hand. Her gaze slid back to the podium. From where she sat, Professor Finnelan wasn't obscured behind her textbook or the box on stage. Her eyes trailed along her professor's curves, appreciating the way the uniform held them with care. Before Chariot could fantasize about her body underneath, she tore her gaze away and snatched her quill. She ignored her teammate's puzzled gazes and scrawled more notes. Her cheeks flamed. Her queasy gut rolled.</p><p>Her stare was set on her notebook instead of to the podium, avoiding her professor completely. The lecture became just as intelligible as the ancient languages on the blackboard, and Chariot sighed to herself. Her fingertips raked the edge of the paper before she flipped to the back of the notes. Behind a hundred blank pages, Chariot skimmed over her doodles and quotes and spells that accumulated along the edges. <em>Shiny Chariot</em>—bolded across the top. The Claiomh Solais—sketched at the center.</p><p>She chewed the inside of her cheek before turning the pages back to her class notes. Even while partially listening to the lecture, Chariot could practically hear the professor's censure. Witches weren't a <em>ploy</em> for everyone else in the world, after all. Chariot wasn't supposed to <em>entertain</em> them and waste her talents. It was a disgrace.</p><p>Chariot folded her legs with a frown, and braved her discomfort as Professor Finnelan stressed for everyone's attention. But Chariot's mind was elsewhere, convulsing within a fantasy. Her thighs squeezed, and she frowned. For a sporadic moment, Chariot could picture it: her bent over the podium with her professor against her— Chariot snapped to attention and grasped the side of her head with a scalding red painting her cheeks. She could barely even hear the lesson, though Chariot saw the new text illuminated on the blackboard.</p><p>With her head down, Chariot mindlessly wrote the paragraph word for word. <em>What is wrong with me? </em><em>Why can't I like someone like Janice? What is wrong with me?!</em> Her lips tightened, and the pressure on her quill elevated. <em>Am I broken? Finnelan's never going to even smile at me. I shouldn't even be thinking about that! It's wrong and weir—</em></p><p>Her eyes widened, and with a hiss she hastily scribbled out the damnation she just wrote.</p><p>But it was too late. It already branded itself to the inside of her skull. Her teammates—fucking <em>thankfully</em><em>—</em>were none the wiser. Chariot's whole face flushed with red, and her whole body felt as if it would melt.</p><p>
  <em>Sex = approval.</em>
</p><p>She rested her fevered forehead against her clammy palms, fingers laced through her hair. Her throat tightened around a bulbous knot. Chariot didn't want th-<em>that!</em> Not really! She just thought that Professor Finnelan was pretty, and she wasn't the monster that everyone said she was. And that—just <em>once</em><em>—</em>she wanted to share a smile of gratitude. A simple polite one. It didn't even have to be sincere.</p><p>
  <em>Sex = approval.</em>
</p><p>Chariot's grip tightened before she fidgeted in her seat, the other students having gotten to their feet around her. She collected her things quickly and stuffed them into her small schoolbag. Chariot was one of the last few to trickle out of the classroom, though she was the <em>only</em> one to linger at the door. She looked over her shoulder curiously, and when grey eyes caught her own, her ears grew red, and she ducked away.</p><p>Chariot didn't catch Finnelan's arched brow before the woman sighed with a shake of her head. The professor stared at her papers for a moment, shook her head again with more vigor, and tucked them into a folder.</p><p>She'd only been teaching that student for a semester, and <em>still</em> Finnelan couldn't understand any of it.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — —</strong>
</p><p>And, once again, Anne was in that place, completely and utterly confused by the likes of another witch. Except, this wasn't a fragmented moment, nor a brief thought that lingered a mere second too long. Instead, it was a convulsion of thoughts throughout the course of several hours.</p><p>Her writing was slow and punctual, and Finnelan barely heard the books as they were reorganized back into their shelves. She rested her head into her hand, blankly staring at the parchment.</p><p>Ursula's words haunted her, and she hadn't realized just how deep they cut into her. In fact, as Anne sat at her desk, it had dawned on her that Ursula's words <em>impaled</em> her. She paused, and finally set her pen down to the side. Finnelan drummed her fingers against the dark wood, eyes drifted to the grandfather clock. </p><p>If there was a way to turn back time, she'd take it. To steal back her words. To brave for the calamity that morning brought.</p><p>To...rewind moments so she could pay more attention. Anne's scowl was sturdy as she thought, skimming through the brief glances and fleeting curiosities that she managed to keep of Ursula Callistis. And there were a lot. More than she would've imagined. <em>Much</em> more than she would ever admit. So much more, that, she couldn't determined the first of them—as if her infatuation for the curious witch started years ago. When she'd first asked Ursula a favor? When Ursula first stepped in as the new professor? Anne hadn't a clue.</p><p>Her drumming stopped. The depravity of it all. Anne's scowl deepened, and her eyes peered into her papers.  What was she doing? For the love of all things good, <em>just</em> what was she doing?! <em>Thinking</em> about another woman? A woman, who, was her colleague. Her junior—someone who had no right... Her thoughts drifted. </p><p><em>"I question you </em>because<em> I respect you..." </em></p><p>Her voice... Anne folded her arms, leaned against the back of her chair. Her voice spoke from that greater beast within those eyes of fire, and Finnelan couldn't help but ponder a great many things.</p><p>"Professor Finnelan?"</p><p>Anne jerked in her seat. And ponder she would later, then. "Yes, Miss Cavendish?"</p><p>Diana stood at the foot of her desk, the last of the books in her hands. "I was asking if this would be all," she said with her usual disciplined tone. And Professor Finnelan quite admired the girl, who stood as a proud face of the perfect student.</p><p>"Yes, I apologize," Finnelan murmured with a gentle grin. "The...blue moon seems to be getting to me tonight."</p><p>Diana nodded, slipping the tomes of texts and scriptures back into their places by the grandfather clock. "Yes, I could've guessed. And it is Friday the thirteenth. I find it quite an odd night already."</p><p>The professor hummed. As she glanced towards the noble student, her lamp's light was caught along Diana's hand. "I presume it will be," Anne said. A ring. A silver, beautiful ring adorned the student's right thumb. Her brow arched curiously, though Anne refrained from any questions. Instead, she commented, "I heard there would be dorm-festivities tonight for it."</p><p>"Yes. It's all over the school," Diana confirmed. "I don't plan on doing anything. I usually study these nights..."</p><p>"But...?"</p><p>Diana paused, and with pink dusting her face, she admitted, "But...if Akko asked, I would join her."</p><p>"I don't expect any trouble from that—anything above minor, anyway."</p><p>The student gave a soft, polite laugh, and brushed her hands together. "Akko does find a way," she murmured, and Anne heard the fondness crocheted amongst her patience. And as Diana strode back to the desk to collect her things—a scroll and quills—, Anne noticed the intricate design of the ring; jades sprinkled the piece, with lines and curls carved into the metal. Along the edges, it was worn—soft and loved.</p><p>"That is quite the ring," Finnelan complimented.</p><p>"Oh, thank-you," Diana said quietly, pausing to admire her finger. The light, gentle smile that graced her was a pleasant sight. Anne wasn't entirely sure if she'd ever caught anything more than slightest curl of her lips. "It's...from Japan." The grin was gone, and Diana coughed as she explained: "I don't know if you know, but Akko and I are involved." Her clutch around the scroll tightened, Diana rather unsure. "It's a promise ring," she added, her soft joy dripping from each word.</p><p>Anne nodded. "Well, that's wonderful, Diana. Not many people have found their someone so quickly."</p><p>"Thank-you, professor." Diana straightened herself, then said, "I'll be heading to my dorm now, for the night, perhaps. I'll see you tomorrow for those notes again, Professor Finnelan."</p><p>"Anytime, Miss Cavendish," Finnelan replied as she opened the office door, grinned softly over her shoulder, then left. And once the office door shut itself closed, Anne sunk in her seat, chewing the inside of her cheek.</p><p>It was a strange thing, feeling so lonely during her usual working hour. Anne Finnelan leaned against her palm with a quiet sigh. "Diana and Akko... I should be surprised," she murmured to herself. And yet, she found that she wasn't.</p><p>Of course, Anne had her premonitions during her lectures, and, suffice to say, she was almost envious. A young love—if the ring spoke its volumes—was far less complicated than what one of age would bring. </p><p><em>"I question you </em>because<em> I respect you..." </em></p><p>Anne rubbed her temple tersely. "Dammit Ursula..." she hissed, grey eyes glared from underneath her hands.</p><p>
  <em>"I respect you..."</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>She didn't know what the hell she was doing. She didn't know what the <em>hell</em> she was doing. By the Nine, what was she <em>thinking?!</em></p><p>Ursula paced in a lecture hall, arms together. Her stomach was spinning with vapid emotions, and everything else was a queasy mass of giddy. Even after her last class, in the hall...Ursula craved for her attention. Even after Finnelan's features were warped with an unbelievable rage, backing her against the wall. Capturing her breath. Sending her heart to jitter through its beats. Her hands still trembled as they clutched her arms at the thought; damn Finnelan for forcing tears on Akko, but damn herself for finding Finnelan's anger so captivating. Ursula hissed a breath, sat down at the small desk shoved to the side of the hall, and held her head in her hands. Her heel tapped, and her thoughts whirled. </p><p>Ursula desperately wanted this. <em>Now.</em> While her head still shook. While her heart still quivered. While her hands still trembled and gut still throbbed. Ursula folded her legs in an attempt to control the molten vat of emotions that had been brewing for the past handful of hours. She didn't know if it was because it was the night of a blue moon, or because it was Friday the 13th, or both, or because she was <em>that</em> pitifully horny—</p><p>She exhaled hotly to herself at that conviction. ...though, it didn't make it any less true. It interweaved with her immeasurable guilt; she felt a scale teeter to one side or another—Akko or Finnelan. Ursula clenched her fists in her lap and fashioned a tight brow. She glared into the desk. What the absolute <em>hell</em> was she to do? She'd consoled Akko as best she could, assuring the poor girl that Finnelan wasn't a monster, she was just angry. <em>"She's also a bitch,"</em> Akko had grumbled sourly, and Ursula didn't blame her. It wasn't as if Ursula never thought the same at times.</p><p>Though, because she knew it was true, the professor replied to her student with a gentle, assuring voice: <em>"Maybe in that moment, yes, but don't you do things that's wrong too? Even if you believe you're in the right?" </em>Akko thought for a while, and eventually she nodded. Of course she did. The irony, Ursula found, was that <em>that</em> was exactly how Akko found herself in trouble to begin with. Time and time again. At Professor Finnelan's feet.</p><p>She curled within herself, guiltily. Her thoughts bent the other way with enthusiasm, tipping the scale, much to Ursula's moral detriment.</p><p>
  <em>Sex = approval.</em>
</p><p>Her chest jolted as the scribbled line of mindless thought haunted her. <em>Professor Finnelan... </em>It was one-sided. This whole thing—her fantasy—was <em>her's</em> and <em>her's</em> alone. That's what she told herself on loop. <em>She doesn't want you. If Finnelan got any hint from today, she probably wants you kilometers from her.</em> Ursula swallowed. Her intense desire still swarmed in her chest, brewing a vicious storm. </p><p>Once, and she didn't really know <em>where</em> she heard it, somebody told her that words spoken out loud were different; they were far more honest, unable to hide the truth. And aloud, oh, how that truth would manifest. But, the person said that speaking your thoughts aloud would soften them. Keep them at a distance. Cripple their intimidation. Professor Ursula closed her eyes. The truth slithered in her mouth, clacked against her teeth, and fidgeted along her tongue with a heinous tail worming the length of her throat. And she could no longer swallow it down. For damn near fifteen years, she'd been able to, but Ursula couldn't keep it behind sealed lips any longer. </p><p>She held her breath. And through her exhale, Ursula whispered, "I want to have sex with Professor Finnelan."</p><p>Dammit.</p><p>Her cheeks burned, and she closed her eyes before burrowing her head back into her arms. <em>Dammit.</em> Those handful of words still shook her to the core. <em>Terrified</em> her. Ursula felt as if time hadn't ever passed, and she was still the second- or third-year at her seat, watching the professor with gratified intent. Wanting for the professor to call for her at the end. Take her virginity over a desk. And, by the end of her last semester, that was replaced with the need for the professor to show Ursula the <em>real</em> way of doing it... Ursula hissed to herself, swearing at the sour, fantastical manifestations she'd come up with in her youth. Yet, she still thought. Of course, both were far younger then, and things had changed since. </p><p>It left Ursula to wonder still... What if there was a chance? A small one, but one nonetheless? She gnawed the knuckle of her thumb.nWhat if Professor Finnelan was thinking about her in the office? Did she...want her too?</p><p>She let her gaze skid across the desktop, to the built-in cabinets beside the door. Ursula thought of Lukić's bottles and bottles of potions. Slowly, she chewed the inside of her cheek. <em>I want to have sex with Professor Finnelan</em><em>...</em> With confusion and hesitance knitting her brows together, she stood and began to stalk her way to the cabinet. <em>I want to have sex with her, tonight.</em> A careful hand at the handle, a quick breath, and then the cabinet was opened with a monotoned creak. <em>For a few minutes, or until morning—I don't care. </em>The potions clinked as her fingertips grazed them, eyes of fire wandering across the labels. <em>I want to touch her. I want her to touch me.</em> At the very back—which she hoped that probably meant Lukić wouldn't be needing the potion anytime soon—Ursula grabbed the neck of the bottle and slipped it to her chest. <em>Sex = approval. </em>Her eyes dropped to its label, scrawled in Lukić's chicken-scratch:</p><p>Liquid Courage.</p><p>
  <em>I want...all of her... </em>
</p><p>Professor Ursula thumbed the cork of the bottle. She slipped her wand from her hip, whispered the incantation for an old fool's trick with the tip pointed to the lecture podium. A pathetic excuse for a pottery cup <em>poof!-</em>ed itself into existence as she got to it. It was cracked and grotesque, and barely the size of a shot glass—absolutely that of a fool's. Which was quite befitting, Ursula thought. A reassuring breath had passed before she uncorked the potion of courage, and poured it out. She was quick to drink it, knowing of the unreliable cup's tendency to <em>not</em> hold its liquid.</p><p>Only, in her urgency, she'd forgotten just how bitter, strong, and downright <em>ghastly</em> the potion was. Ursula nearly slammed both the cup and bottle onto the podium through her gasp for a chaser—and that, in immediate hindsight, was truly what Ursula needed—, hands clasped around her neck. After rough groans and a few obscenities, Professor Ursula stood from her knees by heaving herself up from the edge of the podium. She fixed her tilted glasses with another cough and glared at the potion.</p><p>Though, in all fairness, she began to feel her desires build in her chest. Preparing for war against her better judgement. In heavy armor that reeked of arrogance, and weapons sharpened with lust. Ursula clutched either side of the podium, tense, as everything curdled within her. She breathed through her mouth, the air brisk and clawing all the way out. For a long moment, the witch just stood there with a pounding head, a throbbing heart, and a tossing gut. Then, abruptly, her grip tightened to where nails dug into the wood, and she hissed sharply. "Dammit!" she swore. "<em>Putain!</em>"</p><p>Even with the damn potion. Even with admitting her twisted fantasy aloud (which <em>fuck</em> whoever told her that!)... Nothing. Absolutely—for fuck's sake—<em>nothing!</em> Nothing that she needed. Everything was still obsessively tight. She remained wound-up. Ursula slashed her wand in the air, and the cup was filled briskly with a clear drink. Gruffly, Ursula snatched and drained it without thought, then grunted and shunted the cup back onto the podium, bottom-up. Her chest buzzed with heat as she swallowed the drink down, the anxiety-infested tension in her shoulders finally uncoiling.</p><p>Professor Ursula grumbled to herself with the potion in her grasp. The drink hadn't gone down with its usual spirit—as in, vodka wasn't <em>supposed</em> to land in her stomach with the force of an elk herd. Perhaps she should've waited a few more minutes. But, who could blame her? Time was running out by the minute, and vodka always worked quickly.</p><p>Although, well, in that moment she could definitely blame herself. The potion had been kicked into gear, and with its newfound alcoholic companion, Liquid Courage began its work; it peppered her skin with tingling drawls of fire, it filled her stomach with a delicious pool of giddy emotions, and it pranced within her head, nulling her anxieties to silence. It encouraged her fantasy with pride.</p><p>Within a minute, the potion was stuffed back in place, the cup left forgotten, and the lights shut off for the night in the lecture hall. Stepped out from the doorway, Professor Ursula gazed down the corridor. </p><p>She was going to have sex with Professor Finnelan. That night. Absolutely. Why? Because Finnelan was surely thinking of her. Thinking about what she'd do to her... Confidently, Ursula strode down the hall, her eyes trained in front of her with a light grin. <em>On her desk...? Now that's a thought.</em></p><p>At an intersection of hallways, Ursula spooked and staggered to the side. ...apparently the potion didn't erase her usual tendencies. "Oh, hello Diana. Are you going to dinner now?"</p><p>Diana, who had been just as startled, composed herself before her answer: "No, professor. A little bit early, I admit, though I intend to study the textbooks tonight in my room."</p><p>"Ah, how responsible," Ursula breathed. She glanced at Diana, who watched her curiously; she'd caught the spark in those eyes of fire. "Well then, I won't keep you. Goodnight, Diana."</p><p>"Goodnight, professor," Diana replied in kind, though she lingered in the hall behind Ursula's determined strides.</p><p>Quickly, the student was left behind from around another corner, down another hall, as Ursula's desire pulsed through her. It wasn't long until she reached Professor Finnelan's door. And it was the potion's blessing that allowed Ursula to knock on the door without hesitation.</p><p>"Come in," she heard Finnelan grumble, most definitely from behind her desk and papers upon papers of work. The door creaked open as she stepped in, lurching the mild surprise out of the witch. "Oh, Professor Callistis, I didn't expect you."</p><p>Ursula was sure to hear the door click behind her before she stepped further into the room. "Yeah, I know," she said softly, her eyes steady on Finnelan. "But, I figured I would come by here tonight."</p><p>Professor Finnelan broke her lingering gaze to focus it back on her work. Which still remained to be untouched aside from her unmotivated scrutiny. "I see. For no particular reason?"</p><p>Her hand rested itself on the back of the students' chair. "I wanted to. That's a good enough reason, no?" Ursula murmured. Her eyes drifted over the desktop. She thinned her lips, and asked, "Are you in the middle of something?"</p><p>"Not...particularly..." Anne answered slowly. "These are just odds and ends. I am just not quite in the headspace tonight."</p><p>A brow rose. "Oh?"</p><p>The studious professor exhaled quietly, and she rubbed the arm of her chair. "I have...been thinking, and you were right, Ursula," Finnelan murmured. "About everything."</p><p>Professor Ursula blinked, and she stepped around the desk. "I... I am?" she echoed, dumbfounded with a rapt heart.</p><p>The woman sighed through her slow nod, resting against her hands. "You are. I did cross a line I should not have." Grey eyes slid from the desk towards Ursula, who strode to her chair-side. To Ursula's hum, Anne furrowed her brows. "Now why are you looking at me like <em>that?</em>" she asked, more out of perplexity than anything, undermining the wicked sprinkle of hope.</p><p>"Like what?" Ursula murmured, legs crossed as she sat on the desktop. Her subtle grin deepened as she caught Anne's stare flicker to her ample thighs. She cocked her head, and answered, "I'm just...surprised, is all."</p><p>"I'm not below recognizing when I'm in the wrong," Professor Finnelan muttered. Her eyes peeled over her desk, searching for <em>anything</em> other than the witch perched beside her. Avoiding the sensual hex that was brewing in those eyes of fire. "Now, Professor Callistis, I—" </p><p>Her jaw snapped shut as a hand was drawn towards her papers, her pen set underneath. "Looking for this?" Ursula hummed.</p><p>"I— Err, yes, actually." She took the pen and held it to the papers, though nothing was written. Anne eyed Ursula's bemused grin, brows stitched together. "What mood are you in...?" she asked. </p><p>Ursula only shrugged simply. Her fox-like, bemused grin spread as she murmured, "I don't know what you mean." </p><p>Finnelan's eyes darted to her colleague, only to find... What was it? There was— There was something in them. In those eyes of fire. There was a flicker of a devilish flame. A spark of some mischievous spirit. A crackle and a pop of a smoldering ember. </p><p>Untamed. Unapologetic. Undoubtedly yearning. </p><p>As Professor Ursula leaned to the side, against her shoulder, hair followed in the motion. Anne turned herself away, knowing the countless reasons to ignore the blossoming temptation. Her jaw tightened. The fact that she was tempted alone was incriminating. Though, as any other siren, Ursula's soothing voice allured her ceaselessly: "Now, earlier, did Akko's mistake disband your lesson? Or, well, interrupt anything important?"</p><p>"No, not anything of note," Finnelan answered quietly. "Which, really, is a good reason why I've yet to follow through any sort of punishment."</p><p>"Really...? That wasn't a small excursion..."</p><p>Professor Finnelan absentmindedly set her pen down, eyes lingered at the edge of Ursula's thighs. "Yes, it wasn't..." She paused, then admitted, "I don't still understand Miss Kagari, however. None of..." Her eyes swiped to red ones before they landed on her hatstand, with her proud hat dawned on top. A proud hat, which, knowing her brewing urge, Anne couldn't imagine wearing with any sort of pride. "...none of <em>this</em> changes any of that."</p><p>"I see," Ursula hummed, setting her own hat down on the desk. "I...know she's not the easiest person to understand." She stood from the desk, her gaze layered with desire.</p><p>Her hand rested itself on Professor Finnelan's shoulder as she slinked around the chair with a hum. "Akko's not a bad student," Ursula murmured, kneading into the professor's uniform. "She tries, and does actually study... She just gets confused with her words, and she doesn't quite have a handle on knowing her limits just yet." Finnelan flexed her hand as Ursula massaged both shoulders, leaned close to her senior's ear. "Would you...say otherwise?" she whispered, her words caressing Finnelan's neck, toying with her collar.</p><p>"I...would say," Professor Finnelan muttered, struggling to maintain the composure of her vowels, "that as a student..." She closed her eyes with a groan, hands clenched, as Ursula pressed against a knot that had been nestled in between her shoulders for the past few days. Anne leaned forward against her forearms, urging her colleague to untangle it. She moved with Ursula's hands, who purred quietly in her ear. In her breaths, Anne felt a new knot form—one of fruition.</p><p>And when Ursula cooed in her ear, Anne felt a youthful beast awaken inside her breast: "You need a break if you needed this as bad as you do." An array of downright imprudent thoughts distracted Anne from civility, her unfocused stare blanketed along her paperwork. She wondered where in all hell Ursula learned the ways of a woman, and just <em>how </em>she could affect Anne in such a way with her hands alone. Finnelan's jaw was clenched tight to ward off just <em>whatever </em>was crawling up her throat. Though it was to no avail. She hissed as Ursula untwisted the knot, finally freeing the tension.</p><p>"Now," she murmured through a satisfied breath, "<em>you</em><em>...</em> Just what games are you playing, Callistis? Have no regard for professionalism?"</p><p>Ursula's warm hands left her shoulders, and Anne found herself almost regretful that she'd said anything. The young woman wandered to her other side, leaned against the desk, and grey eyes followed her glasses as they were laid overtop her papers. "To be honest," Ursula hummed, her tone that of a temptress, "not tonight." Finnelan's chin was tilted to meet her gaze at Ursula's fingertips, before her hand slid down Anne's neck to its base. The older woman was guided to the back of her seat, taken by those eyes of fire...</p><p>She had seen them before. Finnelan could barely register Professor Ursula as she straddled her, arms wrapped around her neck; Anne was just too enraptured. She had <em>seen</em> them <em>before.</em> Ursula Callistis... Had Finnelan remembered her after all? A student she barely spoke to, barely recognized... She highly doubted it, with her record, but it wasn't unfathomable.</p><p>Though as Ursula leaned back, red locked with grey, Anne was utterly bewildered. She would've remembered those eyes, <em>and</em> the face they belonged to.</p><p>
  <em>Ursula, just who are you?</em>
</p><p>The young witch cradled her jawline with one hand, and whispered in her opposite ear: "Do you...think of me, professor?"</p><p>"I don't know what you mean," Anne lied. She hadn't realized her hands had secured themselves along Ursula's hips. Oh, how soft and unapologetically womanly they were.</p><p>"Do you think about what I do by myself?" Ursula's voice was honeyed, far too bewitching and hypnotizing for Anne Finnelan's own good—and with how chaotic her thoughts were becoming, it was the only one of reason. "I'm the only one of the staff my age... Aren't you curious how I fair when I'm alone?" She didn't answer. Her words had left her. And the truth she couldn't bear to admit? Well, there <em>were</em> moments—fleeting—where Finnelan caught how the light favored Ursula; where the students had fawned over the professor from afar; where Ursula, when she hadn't noticed her audience of one, would rub the base of her neck in deep thought. But never had she imagined— Never did Anne think of the possibility— She was too old for this. Too far removed from lust. By damn well nearly two decades removed, might she add.</p><p>Perhaps that was why she felt young again. Anne might as well been sexually reborn with the frantic jitters of twisting and churning emotions that swarmed her gut. And perhaps that was why she didn't give a damn by the fact she was receiving the attention of another <em>woman; </em>at that point, Anne's adult needs were eager to no end to where it hadn't mattered at all. And then, to have <em>this</em> woman over her...one who, at times, for mere moments, catch her eye... Well. <em>Well, </em>Anne couldn't even begin to describe it.</p><p>Ursula pressed herself against her, hips cementing themselves further in place. "You can touch me if you want, professor," she murmured. </p><p>Finnelan almost gasped at the thought. The invitation was alluring. And, as any captivated witch, she took it. </p><p>Hands climbed her back experimentally, and Ursula painted her breaths against her neck in turn. She felt Ursula's body through the fabric, and Anne was quickly dazed. Ursula owned curves and lines of a body Anne never had, and in her youth only admired; that admiration hadn't been forgotten, it seemed, with her hands drawn to Ursula's chest. Fingers teased Finnelan's collar, and the woman felt her professionalism loosen with her tie. Lips seared her skin, the collar then folded away. And, as Finnelan felt the catch of breasts on Ursula's torso, she felt those searing lips smile against her neck. Anne, with an eye closed, gazed along Ursula's side to ensnare more contours of her figure.</p><p>Another kiss burned her, and Finnelan's hands froze before crawling down Ursula's uniform, grazing along her stomach. They paused at the hem of Ursula's dress, then trailed along her thighs, underneath. Anne's brow was firm. She ached for the touch of skin, though Ursula had worn a suit underneath still. Teeth raked the crook of her neck gently, and hands found the healthiest curves of her colleague at her ass. Anne, with her heart throbbing and Ursula clutching her in need, squeezed tenderly.</p><p>Ursula's quiet moan sent spasms of excitement throughout Finnelan to her core.</p><p>She shifted from Anne's neck, eyes teeming with lust. Her seductive smile rocked the woman, and Ursula tilted her head. "Do you want to kiss me?"</p><p>A brow arched, and a corner of her lips crinkled upwards. "You would've made the worst student," Anne scowled half-heartedly. She pulled out a hand from underneath Ursula's uniform to cup her cheek. A hesitant pause. Their momentary nerves. But...the instant they touched, their anxieties slunk away. Their kiss was galvanizing. It had no right being as natural and as intense as it was.</p><p>And, too soon it felt, they broke apart. Their shared grins were subtle, though completely devilish. "And why would that be?" Ursula purred.</p><p>Ursula's toying mood plagued Anne. She furrowed her brows, and with a growing smile that softened her eyes, she murmured, "You didn't need to ask. It was obvious enough."</p><p>"Then...I'll do it again." </p><p>And, well, that promise was kept with intensity. Anne was overwhelmed by the love Ursula was giving her, and slowly her puzzlement—<em>why</em> such a dame would want anything to do with an old hag like herself—blinked out of existence piece by piece. If such a dame wanted that intimacy from an old hag like herself, then so be it. It wasn't as if the young woman's figure wasn't enjoyable, and Anne would be damned if Ursula legitimately felt perturbed by her own. Dammit, Anne had arms wrap her neck in <em>near-desperation</em>. Ursula's lips were intoxicating, and her fingers lacing within Anne's coiled hair were rousing. It was all the woman valued in that moment. Along with the body pressed against hers. Along with the hips that slowly ground themselves into her lap.</p><p>The dame wanted the old hag. What a strange anomaly.</p><p>Ursula's kisses teased their way back to her neck, Anne's skin now flushed and welcoming. Finnelan eyed the grandfather clock beside her bookshelves, barely able to read the time. "Ursula," she muttered. A hum answered her, and their activities paused. "I have to overlook the dinner period soon," she said into Ursula's shoulder.</p><p>Nails clawed her uniform, and Ursula husked, "I want you tonight."</p><p>"I know," Anne breathed. "After. For the night, locked away in my room..."</p><p>Ursula nodded against her neck. She left a long, evocative kiss in the crook of Anne's jawline. Her herded Finnelan's hand from her hip to her chest. "But...not right now..." she whispered.</p><p>"No, not yet."</p><p>Their lips met before Ursula murmured, "Only tonight?"</p><p>The older woman paused. Everything in that moment screamed many a things. Don't stop. Continue. For the love of all the Nine <em>continue.</em> </p><p>She nodded. With a small grin, she murmured, "It is a blue moon, isn't it?" </p><p>Ursula chuckled against her, leaned in. Anne's hum fashioned itself between their locked lips, and her palm trailed to Ursula's neck along her choker. Her thumb caressed her colleague's jaw as Ursula gave her the most sinful kiss. Oh, the French with their tongue. Anne truly felt her years slip away in layers. How had she let herself devoid of anything of the sort for so long? With Ursula's groan lacing her tongue, she didn't know. The frenchwoman gave a mellow laugh as Anne's other hand, still planted firmly underneath her uniform, tightened its clutch. The chair creaked once Ursula arched, deepening their kiss, imprinting her strong desires onto Anne.</p><p>Who, on second thought, decided there would be time. She'd <em>make the time. </em>Right then and right there. Anne urged Ursula's hips to continue their slow pace, eager for her moans to sink deeper between them. She felt her colleague's excitement through her increasingly fumbling hands, hips fluid as they continued to grind out her desires against Finnelan. A brief thought. An instinct. What if...she laid her on the desk? What if Anne just shoved the papers away and—</p><p>And.</p><p>A knock.</p><p>At the door.</p><p>Professor Finnelan barely had the time to realize the chill against her body once Ursula launched herself off of her. Her hands were still frozen in place, astonished by the empty space where the most enthralling woman was a second ago. She blinked as the door groaned open, revealing Samantha Badcock with her nose in her economics textbook. Her gaze rose from behind the cover, and Professor Badcock was startled by Ursula's nervous cough from beside the desk, pushing her oval glasses along the bridge of her nose. Samantha didn't notice Anne's bafflement, nor her jaw that had been snapped shut. Instead, she squinted at the young professor. "Oh, Ursula, I didn't expect you to be here."</p><p>"I was just overlooking more of the research on the pond," Professor Ursula squeaked, though her excuse was believed.</p><p>A quick wipe of the mouth with her sleeve. A clearing of the throat. "Yes," Finnelan agreed, flattening her uniform covertly, "just to ensure we are not mistaken. Which, we've found, we aren't."</p><p>"Good. It would save the school several hundred dollars per semester if we don't have to regularly clean the pond as we have to now," Samantha commented. In unison, the three remained still in the office, meek and suspicious of one another: Samantha of Ursula, and Ursula and Anne together of Samantha, then Anne of Ursula too. Professor Badcock narrowed her eyes as she closed the book, holding it close to her side. "Ursula, you look pink in the cheeks. Are you sick? We can't afford another staff off du—"</p><p>"I was rather fine, thank-you, until—"</p><p>Her jaw snapped shut underneath wide eyes as Samantha scoffed, just as astounded as Anne. "Until <em>what?</em>" Badcock hissed.</p><p>"U-Uh... Until I was feeling feverish some odd minutes ago," Ursula mumbled with a few nervous chuckles. "And, well, I'll be...err, going now."</p><p>"Yes, you do that," Badcock grumbled, still befuddled. Professor Ursula slipped her hat from where it lay on Finnelan's desk back onto her head. Swiftly, she strode past Professor Badcock, and at the door, as Samantha dipped her head to sigh, she shot a bedroom eyes across the room with a bite of her lip. And then, gone—certainly leaving Anne stricken by both shock and captivation. "I swear, she's the most confusing thing," Samantha grumbled. She blinked at Anne who jerked in her seat, gaze darted. "Always so meek and bashful, but then there's these spurts of sass! I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see her lips move!"</p><p>Finnelan crumpled against her chair. "Oh, that's only the beginning of it," she breathed to herself. Professor Finnelan rubbed her neck in thought before abruptly halting in her motions, hand pulled away for eyes to see—</p><p>"Oh, I could only imagine. What with the responsibilities you two share—and Miss Kagari's blunders involved—there'd be much of that."</p><p>—nothing, though Anne wasn't one to sweat nervously on a daily basis. "Uh, y-yes. There is," she replied, distracted, as she stood and snatched her hat from its stand. "Well, it's time for me to head off to dinner, then."</p><p>Badcock nodded, and said, "That's right. You're on the schedule. I'll walk with you... I've been eyeing the potato soup in the line." Anne only pressed a quiet smile between thinned lips and nodded in kind, her path around Samantha quick and swerved. At the door, she opened it, to which the much stouter professor strolled through with a simple "Thanks, Anne!"</p><p>She didn't answer. Down the hall, as Badcock looked through her textbook once again, Professor Finnelan straightened the rest of her uniform. Shoulders. Hips. Neck— Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets at the touch of her exposed collar. She watched her colleague anxiously, wondering if Samantha had caught on. Anne gradually trailed behind her to quickly refasten the first button of her pressed blouse, then tighten her tie. Badcock had watched her carefully. Finnelan, hastily, fabricated, "This week had been rather stressful with the students studying for exams, and my room was warm before Professor Callistis came in."</p><p>"Yes, I do agree. And I had noticed this wing's temperature is elevated tonight... I must see if some of the fairies are behind it—don't want a higher bill this month." Anne only hummed, regressed in her own thoughts to hear Samantha's ramblings of the finances regarding Luna Nova.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>As per usual, the cafeteria during the supper period was filled with worn chatter from the long day behind. Of course, as it was Friday (this particular Friday <em>especially</em>), the conversations remained lively to a comfortable degree. Professor Finnelan stood at the edge, observing her students, catching segments of their chatter here and there.</p><p>Her eyes, though, drifted towards Atsuko's table where said student was set on a rant—Finnelan could only guess what. But, instead of the hardened, calloused scowl, there was a mute, quiet eye.</p><p><em>"I don't understand why you have to be so</em> cruel <em>to her. She's a </em>student...<em>"</em></p><p>Anne tightened her grip within her folded arms. Those words weighed heavier than ever with the ghost of lips still burning her neck and jaw. <em>"I respect you..."</em> Grey eyes, for a brief moment, hardened to the ground. She knew it hadn't been a lie, though Anne wondered to what end? Her back flushed with warmth. Despite it, however, she still felt cold and bitter without the woman, and now with the guilt tossing in her gut, it was a sniveling monster churning. Anne sighed to herself.</p><p>Her gaze slid back to Akko, and she made a decision. For herself, if not for the sake of the student.</p><p>Professor Finnelan strode across the cafeteria, and when she stood behind Akko's chair, she couldn't help but remain still. A scowl formed, and she eyed Akko as Lotte and Sucy both watched in horror and amusement respectively.</p><p>"I just don't fucking understand!" Akko hissed, waving her fork with a pathetic potato at the end. "I swear if <em>Diana</em> fucking blew something up, it would be <em>'Oh,</em> you poor thing!'"</p><p>"I'm glad this hasn't changed since they got together..." Sucy grumbled, her sharp teeth almost glinting as she smirked towards Finnelan.</p><p>"<em>Akko...!</em>" Lotte hissed, whacking her friend with the end of her cloth napkin.</p><p>Atsuko Kagari, however, didn't take notice. As Finnelan folded her arms, she proclaimed, "I'm telling you, I'm going to switch the words from her stupid books around again! <em>And</em>  flip the covers! Let's see what the old shit can read upside-down and backwards now!"</p><p>Anne sighed. She had a feeling about the identity of the book-cursing imposter.</p><p>"Oh, and—<em> Ow!</em>" She jolted against the table and held her ankle. "That— <em>Lotte?! Did you kick me?!</em>"</p><p>Lotte stared at her with wild eyes, teeth bared into a horrifically fixed smile. "Akko..." She flicked her chin towards the woman behind the witch. Between her teeth, manic smile unhindered, Lotte hissed, "She-is-right-behind-you."</p><p>Sucy cackled into her soup at Akko's mortified, paling face.</p><p>As if turned with a crank, Akko swiveled behind her with a sheepish grin. "O-Oh... Hi Professor Finnelan." She gulped. "Um... I didn't mess with your books on purpose the first time, I promise."</p><p>"I need to speak with you."</p><p>Sucy howled.</p><p>"Uh, c-can I finish my potato first?" Akko added a few meek chuckles.</p><p>Finnelan was stone-cold. "No."</p><p>Begrudgingly, Akko obliged, abandoning her pathetic mouthful to follow the woman to the hall. With ever step further from the table (and Sucy's heightened laughter), her nerves rolled. She watched Finnelan at the shoulder. This was it. Finnelan had already done the paperwork, and she was going to be shipped off to Japan the next morning. No time to say goodbye to her friends, or Diana.</p><p>Well shit. She'd have to fuck up the books after curfew then—</p><p>"Miss Kagari?" Professor Finnelan's voice had spliced through Atsuko's train of thought as they stood in the hall just off of the cafeteria. Very alone. And quiet.</p><p>"Oh, uh, right... I-I'll do anything, I swear. Just please don't kick me out—!"</p><p>"You're not being expelled, Kagari," Anne sighed through a collapsed breath. "In fact, there is no punishment of the sort."</p><p>Akko blinked. "Wha...?"</p><p>Grey swept to rust eyes before Finnelan exhaled calmly. "I pulled you aside to apologize to you. I was out of line earlier today, and I realize you didn't mean to break anything. Those crystal balls can be quite fickle, regardless." Anne grew stricken as Akko stared at her, eyes glassy and lips watery. Her hands were together, and on her thumb was a beautiful ring that caught the overhanging lantern's light. "Akko...? Are you—"</p><p>Professor Finnelan wheezed and staggered backwards as Akko clobbered her into a tight hug. "Th-Thank-you," her student whimpered.</p><p>It took several moments for Anne to answer, out of her stunned shock: "I-It's okay, dear." She lightly patted Akko's head. "You're okay, just...go back to your supper," Anne added in a warm, quiet voice.</p><p>Akko detached herself with a slow nod, then wiped her eyes. "Okay..." She lingered for a moment, then headed towards the door.</p><p>Anne watched her, thinned her lips as the witch slowly opened the door. "And Miss Kagari." Akko paused and looked over her shoulder. "I would refrain from putting spells on my books again. Diana wouldn't appreciate reorganizing them for the third time."</p><p>Struck with a sudden realization (so <em>that's</em> why Diana didn't let her kiss on their last date!), rust eyes grew wide, and her lips sheepish. "O-Oh... Okay, I won't..." Akko mumbled through a weak chuckle. She nodded once to Finnelan before dashing back into the cafeteria.</p><p>Professor Finnelan stayed behind, both with amusement and confusion hatched within her thoughts. If there was any witch who managed to dumbfound her more than Ursula, it was surely Atsuko Kagari. In a far less intimate manner and more of a <em>what-goes-on-in-that-student? </em>kind of way, of course.</p><p>"She is quite the funny one, isn't she?"</p><p>Anne practically leapt out of her skin. She whirled around to find Headmistress Holbrooke beside her, quite chipper with her staff at hand. "My <em>god,</em> Miranda!" Anne quivered against the wall, hissing, "You scared the devil out of me!"</p><p>"Really?" Holbrooke smiled. "Well, I've been here for a few minutes wondering what you were staring at."</p><p>"I..." Anne snapped her mouth closed and rubbed her head. "It's been a long night, I suppose."</p><p>The headmistress nodded in kind. "Yes, it has. And it's still young, considering the moon and all..." She watched Anne with her kind eyes. "Are you planning anything?" she asked conversationally.</p><p>"Well," Finnelan muttered through a swallow, "I do have business to attend to. Things to do."</p><p>"Anne, it better not be more work! I swear you'll run yourself to your grave at this rate!"</p><p>Professor Finnelan scoffed with a wave of her hand. "Oh, it's not like that. I am quite capable with my workload." Miranda watched her with an arched brow, her lips pulled into an unconvinced curl. Anne coughed, and added, "But no, tonight isn't going to be all about work. I do have plans for myself."</p><p>Her signature grin was fixed back on. "Oh, dear, that's wonderful to hear! I'll have to ask you about it in the morning!"</p><p>"Of course!" Finnelan replied, quite unsure.</p><p>"Now, speaking of, I can take over your shift so that—"</p><p>"You don't have to do that!" Anne hissed. "I'm alright without the extra thirty minutes!"</p><p>Miranda waved her hands and shook her head vigorously. "No, no, Anne! I insist! Thirty minutes is nothing on a night like this! Go spend that time to yourself—away from work!"</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Anne relented. "Okay, okay. I will." There wasn't any arguing with her, was there? "Well then, I suppose I'll bid you a good night now, Miranda."</p><p>Her nod was returned with a sweet chuckle, and Anne turned at her heel before striding away. "And a good night to you too, dear! And I'm telling you, I hear a word of you working yourself to oblivion again, I will see to it that your workload is cut short!"</p><p>The thought of Ursula invigorated her, rejuvenating the spring in her step. "You shall not worry, headmistress!" Finnelan retorted over her shoulder. Miranda only waved as she stepped around the corner, releasing her from her duties.</p><p>In the corridor, Anne lingered, eyes to the students as they grouped themselves by some of the tall windows. Their chatter was obnoxious even from where she stood, and Professor Finnelan would've wrung their necks at the mere <em>language</em> that spilled from their crude tongues. Though, because under that blue moon where she'd have one night of unadulterated carnality, their gossip was brushed away. As she stalked the halls towards her suite, they had quieted as she passed, and every student froze over her wandering gaze.</p><p>By the time she was at her door, Anne Finnelan was fueled by a curious thing. Her chest jolted and gut twisted at the sight of the observatory, and if she didn't have the half of mind she did then, Anne would've stormed across the campus to Ursula herself. If Ursula would've been there at all.</p><p>The door was shut behind her, and Anne eased a breath as the lamps came to life in her suite. A modest bed was splayed along the wall perpendicular to the door. She turned around the corner that tucked the entrance in its own pocket, passed her bookshelves and bathroom. She slipped off her pointed hat at the end of the bed with thinned lips.</p><p>She paused for a moment, thumbing its rim. Damn. Her tensed jaw eased a gentle smile. Damn, she was nervous. Her eyes flicked to the small window across from her, where the moon was in full view. What a strange night. Delightfully, bewitchingly strange. Her smile deepened as she brought the brim of the hat to her chin.</p><p>And how peculiar it was that <em>this</em> was the night. Not any other time, where Anne would've definitely worked until the moon grew sour into the blazing morning sun, much to Miranda's disapproval. But no. <em>No</em>. Anne was going to—</p><p>She blinked.</p><p><em>Damn.</em> Anne was going to have sex, wasn't she? And if the handful of minutes in her office had any weight, the night would truly be one to enjoy.</p><p>With her hat perched on top of its stand, Anne stood at her desk beside it, hands tight. For a long moment, she only rested in place, feeling the boiling excitement that brewed deep in her gut. An exciting thing. Something to enjoy. Enjoy herself…that's what Miranda had told her to do, yes? But, it had been many, many years since she felt anything of the sort—even then, Anne was sure that those instances before paled in comparison.</p><p>Her eyes slid to one of the few picture frames she had on her desk—kept to the outermost corner. In it was a young woman and a fair-looking man beside her, arms tangled affectionately with the London skyline behind them; the sunset was beautiful in the picture, but alike the relationship, it had quickly blinked out of existence, replaced by a dull, dismal sky. Anne's jaw tightened as she eyed the picture carefully, which had a fine layer of dust coating the glass. Even through the dust, however, her scowl pierced through the man's gaze.</p><p>To put lightly, Anne didn't know why she had ever kept the damn thing. Fond memories had sprouted, sure, though they had aged into a sour, bitter wine. Finnelan set the thing picture-down at the corner of her desk once Ursula Callistis came to mind, reminding her.</p><p>Shoved to the back of her thoughts, the frame was left abandoned. Anne hummed, striding to her wardrobe with the lines of her face soft.</p><p>It may have been a while since she felt anything of the sort, but Anne Finnelan knew she hadn't forgotten what to do.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>Her strides down the halls were that of pure carnality. Her stomach squeezed, and the jitters of her excitement sent aching shivers down her spine.</p><p>Ursula Callistis was going to have sex with Professor Finnelan.</p><p>The more she thought about it, the more the potion throbbed within her, roaring a great beast. To another corridor, Ursula turned right, eyes shifting along the lanterns as their lights were dosed. A fairy shut a door behind him, and he looked around. "Hello," Ursula chirped as she walked by.</p><p>"Oh, hello, professor," the fairy grumbled. "To the kitchens again?"</p><p>"I guess I will be having a little dessert..." Ursula murmured quietly. She turned over her shoulder with a smile. "No, not tonight. Just on a little stroll," she said.</p><p>The fairy blinked. "Alright, Professor Ursula... Goodnight."</p><p>She nodded and started off again, following the bend of the corridor. More lanterns dosed. Another few fairies passed by. Down a cozy hallway, up a few steps, and Ursula was at her door. She swallowed. It certainly had come up fast... With a closed fist, she knocked her knuckles against its surface.</p><p>Heart pounding, Ursula listened to the footsteps behind the handle. It turned. The door opened. Everything was happening too fast. She wasn't ready. And the breath was stolen from her lungs. For a moment, the potion had no effect on her. Ursula was left dumbstruck. Eyes glued to the sight before her with a burning face—all confidence leeched.</p><p>Anne stood in the doorway,  dawning a smile that was more than Ursula could've asked for. In nothing but a tied robe, her brunette hair down with buoyant curls. Her grey eyes were what captured her, however. Never could Ursula have imagined the raw lust that swarmed within them. For her. Alone.</p><p>"Professor Callistis...? You're not going to just stand and gawk, are you?"</p><p>"I— Uh, n-no?"</p><p>Anne arched her brow, and her grin deepened. "Then why don't you join me for the night?"</p><p>Ursula could only nod and step inside. As the door shut behind them, the potion hummed back to life as her gaze wandered along the room. Ursula smiled. It reminded her of a warm, cozy cottage, a welcome shift in atmosphere from her vast, ethereal room.</p><p>"Make yourself comfortable," she heard Anne murmur behind her, her hands finding their way at Ursula's hips. She smiled, fingers laced within them.</p><p>"Okay… I will," Ursula hummed. She slipped her glasses off and set them on a shelf of a bookcase, and pinched the brim of her hat. It was tossed to the other side of the bed, where it had flopped—rather gracefully, actually—to the floor.</p><p>Anne's amused hum nestled into her neck from pursed lips, and Ursula gave a carefree laugh of her own, her hands to the buckle of her uniform. With the witches' dress loosened, she allowed the roaming hands to peel it off her shoulders, pooling it to the ground.</p><p>Ursula twisted in Anne's arms to link her arms around the woman's neck, pulling her into a fiery kiss. As they indulged, the pair found themselves planted against the sheets of the bed, Ursula hovering over her colleague with legs tangled along the edge. She sat up with hands rummaging the lengths of her thighs, fingers toying with the fold of her bodysuit before she unzipped it off her shoulders.</p><p>Anne hummed at the sight of Ursula's exposed torso, and then trailed her gaze to Ursula's bare chest once her black bra was flung precariously away. A shared smile plagued them as Finnelan groped her breasts in awe.</p><p>"You're stunning, Ursula," she breathed, leaned forward to press her lips against scorched skin. "You have…a beautiful body," she added in between.</p><p>In a husked whisper, Ursula replied, "I trained as an acrobat… I'll show you tonight what I can do." </p><p>"Oh will you now?" Anne chuckled. She rested herself against the sheets, awaiting Ursula who grasped the knot of the robe. Eyes of fire rested on her, curious. "Untie it."</p><p>A grin was hitched, and Ursula did so carefully. And once she pulled back the robe, unveiling Anne's naked body for her, her heart throbbed as the potion began to seep into the back of her mind. Instead, her fantasy—her dream—was materialized before Ursula, and absolutely nothing could have tampered with the surge of instincts that swarmed her then. Everything—every organ, muscle, tissue—told her to steal Anne Finnelan away. Make her forget her work. Forget Luna Nova. Forget everything past that door. </p><p>This was better than a stupid second- and third-year could've imagined.</p><p>Her hands wandered her body with purrs of delight, which erected soft groans in turn. Ursula, once satisfied by the feast-of-the-eyes, leaned to peck Anne's cheek. "You're so beautiful," she whispered in the witch's ear. "I can't wait any longer…"</p><p>"Then don't," Anne croaked. Her hands clenched around a bundle of sheets. "Ursula, don't wait."</p><p>Ursula swallowed with a nod. Her fingers traveled down in between the woman's legs; she moaned, her fingers slicked with raw desire. Her darkened, lustful eyes slid to Anne, unmoving as she unplastered herself off the bed. Ursula's smirk was what engrossed the witch, who eyed the young woman as she got to her knees at the foot of the bed, in between her thighs.</p><p>Smoldering kisses began to litter the inside of her legs, and at the realization of Ursula's intention, a swarm of needles prickled her core to a tingling mass of anticipation. She leaned against her elbows, eyes hinged onto Ursula, who leaned in.</p><p>Anne moaned at the moment of contact, which was echoed by Ursula's groan.</p><p>She tasted her with enthusiasm, a curdled itch of her own having nestled at the base of her gut. Ursula watched Anne, who had a fine red painted across her cheeks. She closed her eyes for a moment, far too enamored by Finnelan against her.</p><p>
  <em>Sex = acceptance.</em>
</p><p>Ursula frowned, her grip around Anne's thigh tightening at the sound of her name moaned into the room.</p><p>
  <em>Sex = …</em>
</p><p>She opened her eyes as Anne fell back, overcome by her new surge of emotions. The same ones, Ursula hoped, that were similar to her own. "God, <em>Ursula…</em>" Anne gasped, her voice pierced at the edges.</p><p>
  <em>Sex = … It equals…more than that stupid little girl could've ever imagined.</em>
</p><p>Ursula hummed against Anne as legs tensed around her, twitching from climax. With a small smile, Ursula kissed the tender area before pulling away, adamant to trail her kisses back to Anne's jaw. She cooed in the woman's ear, pleased with her handiwork—without hands.</p><p>With grey eyes heavy on her, Ursula gave a languid show of discarding her body suit. Center-stage with lustful eyes, hands that caressed the curves of her body they could muster, and a wicked smile to top it all.</p><p>"You…never fail to surprise me," Anne finally grumbled.</p><p>"Then tonight should be full of them," Ursula hummed, smile wide.</p><p>In fluid motions, the bodysuit tossed away, she slinked overtop Anne. They groaned into their kiss, however sweet and bitter it was, and Anne felt along her ample thighs. Fingers slipped underneath the fabric of Ursula's underwear, curled against flushed, smooth skin. The young woman smirked against her, then pulled away to tease the unnecessary garment off her body and to wherever the hell it landed.</p><p>Anne sat up as Ursula straddled her, and grey eyes took the moment to admire the curves just revealed. Hands grasped Ursula at her ass before pulling the witch closer, ruled with hunger. Into her ear, Finnelan murmured, "Finish what you were doing in the office." Ursula nodded against her; with a bite of her lip, she held Anne close and began to grind. Her chest flipped with her one-night lover's hum of affection.</p><p>She arched. Hands crawled up her back, coaxing her to dig herself deeper. Ursula moaned tightly at the feel of the heat she lathered along Anne's skin. "Fuck... <em>Fuck,</em> professor..." she mewled.</p><p>Lips peppered along her collarbone as Ursula continued to ride, breaths light. A gasp escaped from between full lips. She felt a soft though firm pressure underneath her, teasing Ursula at her core. Her eyes were drugged with primal desire as she glanced down, and, without a word, Ursula complied to the hand that had slipped underneath her. She rubbed herself against her senior's palm, and her clutch around Anne was solid. Ursula grunted through another whine, and she managed, "In. Put them <em>in.</em>"</p><p>Anne Finnelan, as she had grown to realize, wasn't one for gradual fulfillment. Ursula moaned heartily in her ear as she felt two fingers slip inside, to the third knuckle. Anne hummed, then purred, "You've been waiting for that, haven't you?"</p><p>"Fuck yes," she whined. That wasn't what she'd thought she'd say. There would've been more grace if she <em>could</em> think to begin with. Ursula didn't expect her answer to have the blunt edges that it did, though she also didn't really care. Instead, Ursula rolled her hips for any motion—anything to sedate her erratic urge.</p><p>"What?" Anne murmured, her small smile mischievous. Her hand began to pump in slow, methodical beats. Ursula moaned, and her hips moved with the pace. She nestled into Anne's neck, eyes tight. "Now..." the older woman breathed, "I have thought of you before...when you asked?" Ursula sighed as she rocked in the motion, eyes shut tight. "But,  I want to know...how much have you thought of me...?"</p><p>Ursula tensed as fingers curled, pushing themselves deeper. Anne hummed, stroking the rough patch of wet heat inside Ursula, forcing the witch to groan in delight. "I..." Ursula swallowed and panted, arched against Anne. "I... I can't stop. I've always wanted <em>you—!</em>"</p><p>"Always?" The pace was increased, and Anne felt Ursula pulse around her fingers. "Don't tell me," she groaned, her words thickened with honeyed libido, "as a student...?" Once the words slipped from her lips—from between her teeth—, Anne felt a spike of excitement that she knew was a vile thing. But shoot a woman for wanting to know if they'd truly been desired after, pined after, yearned after, for many years.</p><p>"<em>Merde,</em>" Ursula gasped. Through a blush, she admitted in a throaty whine, "Je voulais que tu prennes ma virginité..."</p><p>Anne knew she'd burn in hell for the smile that spread across her face, and she pressed a light kiss along Ursula's throat. "What was that?" she whispered.</p><p>"N-Nothing... <em>Fuck, </em>it wasn't anything—!" Ursula squeaked, nails digging further into Finnelan's shoulders as fingers ceaselessly kept their pace.</p><p>"Ursula..." Anne whispered, quiet smug, "Je suis professeur de langue pour une raison."</p><p>To say the young woman was mortified was an understatement. But, all the same, to say the young woman wasn't satisfied by the sex Anne was giving her—even if she was tormented by those sly words of hers—was a downright lie. "F-Forget that!" she hissed.</p><p>"No... I don't think I will, Professor Callistis." Anne paused to slip another finger inside. Ursula moaned with a soft grin, taking the new digit whole. "You should know by now that it is inappropriate for students to think that way. <em>Especially</em> with their authority."</p><p>Red eyes skewed open, and nails dug into the woman's shoulder. With a cocky smile of her own, Ursula murmured, "I'm not the one who didn't stop when Samantha interrupted us." When Anne didn't answer, Ursula leaned away to catch grey eyes. They slid to meet hers, and her smile deepened. "Fuck," she breathed, locking lips with intensity. Ursula rocked her hips with the continuous motions, her moans soft, reverberating within Finnelan.</p><p>A tremor. Ursula gasped, burrowed against Anne. Anne, who, pressed hot kisses along her shoulder, eyes closed as she concentrated on her colleague's perfect body. Ursula could barely move with her; hips were latched in place, trembling. "Ursula," Anne purred. "Don't hold back."</p><p>And she didn't. Ursula cried out, and her arms wrung around Anne's shoulders tightly as the tension in her body stuttered in powerful beats. "Oh <em>shit!</em> Pro— N— An-n-<em>n—!</em>" Ursula felt the air in her lungs leave her. She leaked hot sex into the palm of Anne's hand, completely and utterly gratified.</p><p>Ursula quivered, and she held Finnelan as waves of euphoria continued to swamp her. Ursula panted into her neck, Anne's hum mellow as she pulled her newfound lover closer to herself. Fiery eyes cracked open with lips pressed firmly against the professor's shoulder. Her hair... Ursula followed its length which brushed against her cheek.</p><p>Blood red.</p><p>Ursula groaned and closed her eyes, throbbing around Anne's fingers before they were slipped out. Sweet words were murmured into the crook of her neck, and Ursula inhaled as Anne's grip slid delicately to her shoulders from the curve of her hips.</p><p>A part of her wanted to recede back into her shell. Dull her hair. Hide everything. But Anne's lips peppered her skin so sweetly, so tenderly that Ursula's mind spun. The fact was...that night wasn't Ursula Callistis' dream. It wasn't Ursula Callistis' <em>fantasy</em>.</p><p>The young woman, with a swallow, pulled away and took out the thick hair tie restraining its vibrancy. As her bangs were freed, they fell across her face, tie thrown precariously to the side. And she gazed into Anne's grey eyes, head tilted to the right, into the hand caressing her jaw. She waited, and Anne paused sequentially, clarity striking in shattered pieces.</p><p>When no words were spoken, the witch held Finnelan's wrist when her hand faltered in the midst of her bewilderment. Softly, she whispered, "Do you remember me now...professor?"</p><p>Of course she did. "Chariot..." Anne breathed. Of course she did. Of— Of <em>course</em> she did.</p><p>Anne blinked, her thoughts a rapid echo of just how <em>much</em> she remembered Chariot du Nord. Chariot, who had grown into a woman, and now pecked her cheek with timidity. Anne felt the slight tremble in the woman's hands as they grasped at her body, lips pressed against Finnelan's jawline. And with each peck, Anne could feel the woman's heartbeat pulse.</p><p><em>Chariot...</em> There was an odd lucidity of it all. Every star aligned, the pieces clicked together—Anne finally understood: Ursula was nothing more than the shattered reflection of the student she knew. A student was just as meek and mellow as she was feisty and fiery. And her magic—what she could do was something to behold. Absolutely a shattered reflection. A muted tone of color. </p><p>If only...Chariot hadn't wasted her potential for show. If only...</p><p>Her brows furrowed as Chariot held her jaw. A careful kiss tested Anne's desire. It proved to be a bewitching one for they couldn't break apart. Their bodies molded together. Chariot moaned, her breaths interlaced with Anne's. Hands wandered, and they fell back to the pillows.</p><p>If only she hadn't followed a dream. Anne knew that dreams were never to be admired.  Anything with wonderment and an unseen future was doomed to strike down with the nightmare that was reality.</p><p>Anne hissed a breath of passion once her stomach jolted at Chariot's touch. She indulged deeper into their interlocked embrace, where their moans were caught, and where Anne could simply <em>melt</em> in Chariot's arms. It was surreal. All of Ursula Callistis was simply snapped out of existence, and was instead absorbed into Chariot du Nord. This certainly wasn't a <em>dream—</em>damn Finnelan if it was—, but this was no nightmare.</p><p>Chariot's gentle gasp sunk Anne back to the moment, away from Luna Nova many years ago where a quiet student sat in the front row of her class, the face of many—<em>many—</em>detentions, and who was one of a select few to follow at her heel with a pile of books. Chariot swallowed, and groaned, "I-I have always wanted to do this with you, ...professor."</p><p>But Ursula Callistis came to mind. Grey eyes were locked in a half-lidded gaze as Chariot adjusted herself, her hand clutched tight around Anne's thigh. Ursula, so quiet and reserved, still captured her in the little odd ways. The small details. The nervous gestures.</p><p>They moaned in unison as Chariot dug herself in between their legs, grasped onto Anne with an amorous stare. Her gentle laughter... The line of her collar bone... Her gasp as she klutz-ed to the floor... Her focused features without those glasses and the hat masking them...</p><p>Anne swallowed.</p><p>Damn it all. With the face of her former student burned in her mind, and with the few words uttered in the midst of their lustful passion, Anne couldn't. The student became muddled by Ursula, and together molded the dame that watched her with a searing gaze. Grinding against her. Body perfect. A student no more but a respectable teacher... </p><p>She clenched her teeth before she corrected the woman: "Anne..."</p><p>Chariot tilted her head curiously. It was yet another thing Finnelan had caught and captured for her own thoughts, tucked away into the stack of the beauty she found in Ursula. "Anne," she repeated. "I haven't been your professor for a long time."</p><p>A smile graced the young witch, and she leaned in with a roll of her hips. "So, does that mean you won't teach me anything anymore?" she whispered.</p><p>A coil of her heart. A spring of her gut. "I didn't say <em>that,</em>" Anne grumbled with a searing kiss. How everything in that moment didn't feel immoral was a bold realization. One that Anne took the time to accept and swallow, lacing her hands through Chariot's long hair. And as she felt another grin against her lips, Finnelan twisted, abruptly flipping her to the pillows. When she pulled away, left breathless, Chariot gazed up at her with vulnerable eyes.</p><p><em>Take me,</em> they said. <em>As if nothing else matters. Not Luna Nova. Not all those years ago. Nothing outside that door.</em></p><p>Damn it all. The gap between them was filled, and with every nail that grasped her back in need, Anne felt her years slink away. She moved with a fluidity she thought she lost, a hunger that she presumed had been snuffed out years and years ago.</p><p>Chariot's breath hitched. "A-Anne—!" She grappled her arms around Finnelan's torso, legs coiled, and nails dug. Every exclamation of her name only propelled Anne's fervor; she groaned against Chariot, thoughts erratic. Such a simple thing shouldn't have excited her so. But every utterance of her name from Chariot's lips, Anne could only continue with an extreme devotion to her ardor.</p><p>The bed on which they fornicated—the old reliable thing that was consistently a place of comfort after every stressful day—whined and trembled at the bolts and springs. Never did Anne believe that the bed would ever witness such fevered intimacy. Never did Anne believe that there'd be a fire born within her, fueling the woman to move with intent. At that time, no longer was the bed a reflection of herself; where it protested against every thrust, its creaks drowned by the women's shared moans of pleasure, Anne felt waves of frenzy encourage her instead. </p><p>Not once had Anne fathomed the possibility of a dame underneath her. Not once had Anne fathomed how much she'd thought of this—all of the brief, passing moments stacking upon themselves to reach the level of elation they shared in that poor, aching bed.</p><p>But—<em>damn</em> it all—she did. Every cherished moment captured of Ursula. Every curious, brushed-away thought of that student. Everything that led to that moment. Right then, right there. Chariot in her arms, in her bed, moaning her name into her ear with intensity. It all crumpled into a monstrous flame, rolling and burrowing deep in her chest. A student turned a stranger turned a lover.</p><p>She couldn't believe it.</p><p>Anne Finnelan had fallen for Chariot du Nord.</p><p>And as the dame cried of delirious euphoria, there wasn't any way she could go back. Under that moon, on that Friday, Anne couldn't fathom how she'd ever want to lose this.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>By the time the sun rose to sear through the blinds of the suite's window, the women laid in the bed soundlessly, wrapped in disorganized sheets with the lines of light blanketing them. Anne stirred with a quiet groan, blinking awake. She stared at the clock set on her nightstand for a while with narrowed eyes.</p><p>How was it <em>nine?!</em></p><p>She pulled herself up gingerly, and the aches and pains of enjoying herself <em>too</em> much had made themselves known. Which, Finnelan supposed, was what she deserved after spending a night as if her youth never left her. She rubbed the lines of her forehead, then looked over her shoulder.</p><p>Chariot's back was to her, wild hair tamed with sleep, coiled along the pillow and mattress. Anne's gaze softened as she followed the line of her figure, which slunk into the sheets. Carefully, Anne pulled them to the woman's shoulder, and her hand rested in place before she stepped out of bed.</p><p>She wheezed a gasp. Teeth gritted, Anne held the small of her back as she swiped her robe from the floor, then stretched to pop it. With a satisfied breath, she tossed the robe to the end of the bed. After rummaging through her organized wardrobe, then slipping into her undergarments, Anne reached for the robe and wrapped it around herself.</p><p>She eyed the bed briefly. Then was abruptly startled. And...confused?</p><p>Anne stared at the bed posts, and with her palm, she pushed the one at the closest corner. It groaned with a wobble. Her face grew pink, and she scratched the back of her neck. The poor bed would need mending. It almost was sagged into the ground, the life beaten out of it. The pink of her skin turned into a fine maroon. Mending, and some new bolts and springs even.</p><p>Chariot hummed sleepily from the bed, and she nestled deeper into the pillows. Anne watched, gaze soft, and found herself tugged between going back to sleep, resting beside the woman with a book, and dawning her uniform for another day of overseeing the students leave for town.</p><p>Before she could make any such decision, however, a gentle knock drummed against the door. Bewildered, Anne tightened the robe around waist and chest, and at the door, she slipped into her slippers. Cautiously, she opened it. "Headmistress?" she asked through a croak.</p><p>"Oh! It looks like you just got up!" Miranda giggled quietly.</p><p>Anne nodded, only then realizing her curled hair was down her back and along her shoulders. She pulled a lock back—the one she'd been watching grey hairs slowly seep in—and asked, "Is there anything the matter?"</p><p>Headmistress Holbrooke shook her head. "No, I was just wondering where you were. It's not often you sleep in, and that's only when you're dreadfully ill or have <em>exhausted</em> yourself over paperwork... That's not the case this morning, I hope?"</p><p>"Not, exactly, exhausted," Anne murmured. She heard the gentle rustle of sheets, and she stepped further out into the hall to close the door. </p><p>Miranda eyed the handle with a shake of her head. "Anne," she sighed, "even with your night off?"</p><p>"I have my responsibilities. I did tell you I had important plans last night," Finnelan replied tightly. She swallowed as Miranda tapped her staff against the floor.</p><p>She <em>tsk!</em>-ed the professor. "I should've known. I would've dragged you to my office and shared my tarts if you were going to be so insistent with work!"</p><p>"Oh, there's no need, Miranda!" Anne assured, biting back her nervous hitches in her vowels. "I am quite satisfied with the progress I made, <em>and</em> I even set aside time to read my novel."</p><p>"Was it the one I got you for Christmas?" Miranda asked sweetly.</p><p>Anne thinned her lips and nodded. "Why yes, it was. It is such a good read, headmistress. I don't know where you find them!" They stood in the hall quietly, and Finnelan folded her arms. She felt wildly out of place without her uniform or hat. It was odd to breathe without her bolo tie in front of Headmistress Holbrooke. Though, the charming woman didn't seem to mind; if anything, as Anne thought, she probably <em>liked</em> seeing Anne out of her usual dress if it meant the professor wasn't so much of a workaholic. Which she was. </p><p>And to further cement herself in that role, Anne asked, "I assume there is something for me to do? I saw that I had nothing on schedule this morning—other than the tadpole research."</p><p>"Ah yes, that is true. No, not that I can think of," Miranda answered. "In fact, things are running rather smoothly this morning—other than Miss Callistis sleeping the day away, <em>again—</em>" Anne nodded along nervously, her thoughts drifting back to the woman in her bed, who was indeed sleeping the day away— "though I don't think waking her is necessary either. I don't want to stress the young blood <em>too</em> much, you know."</p><p>As Holbrooke giggled, Anne only sighed. "Being young, she should be the first one up," she muttered. And that was true regardless. Finnelan could only <em>wish</em> she'd rose from bed earlier, if to avoid this conversation as a whole.</p><p>Miranda nodded. "I suppose. Although, whenever my daughter comes to visit, I still find myself hesitant to wake her. And Ursula reminds me of her at times." Anne chewed the inside of her lip, if only to bite back the mess of thoughts in her head. "That," Miranda continued, unaware of Finnelan's growing anxiety, "and I know Ursula watches the stars often in that observatory of hers, and I highly doubt she passed the opportunity to watch the blue moon last night."</p><p>"Ah, yes, that's right. I doubt she would as well..."</p><p>"Which reminds me, the spring festivities are around the corner, aren't they?"</p><p>Anne answered, "I suppose they are. And the midterm exams are this next week..." Her thoughts lingered to Ursula, and her stomach tightened. She knew Miranda loved conversation, and if they so much as step a foot into the suite...with Chariot there in her bed—who, by the Nine, <em>reminded</em> her of— Anne shivered at the thought. As Holbrooke conversed, Anne swallowed. Half of her wanted to crawl back inside, escape the headmistress' pleasantries, and the other half wanted to bolt the door down, keep the dozing woman from view.</p><p>"Don't you think so, Anne?"</p><p>"Ah, yes, I do," Anne rushed her answer.</p><p>And back in her bed, the young woman who ignored the blue moon rustled against her pillow. </p><p>Chariot groaned quietly to herself, and blinked awake. With the sheets pulled to her chest, she sat up and twisted towards the door. Her eyes widened as she analyzed the room...which...wasn't hers...and...was very much...Anne Finnelan's. The night before—and the early hours of that morning—slammed down her shoulders all at once.</p><p>Her chest grew warm, and her cheeks were burning to the touch. She did it. She had sex with Anne Finnelan. <em>And... </em>Chariot coiled into the sheets, her gentle smile meek. <em>And I loved it.</em></p><p>But that was Headmistress Holbrooke outside the suite with Anne, and the realization alone sent a spike of cold down Chariot's spine. Her stare couldn't be peeled from the door. This was the only time in her life where Miranda's voice absolutely <em>horrified</em> her. For one, Chariot had sworn to her that her identity—that Chariot du Nord—wouldn't be a name spoken aloud so long as she taught; if anything had gotten out, Luna Nova's reputation would become...finicky, she determined. Complicated. A star entertainer that ruined her career in one night, then practically begged for employment? Yes. Finicky and complicated were both great understatements.</p><p>Chariot, near-silently, crept from the bed and reached for her underwear and bra—which had been flung to the side. Her eyes were kept to the door, which remained cracked but ultimately shielded her from the women. From Miranda's gentle gaze. She gulped.</p><p><em>Two,</em> she didn't believe that when Miranda had told them to enjoy their night off—relax and "let their hair down"—she meant for them to <em>actually</em> have sex. A date, sure, not...not <em>that</em><em>—</em>especially with each other. Chariot winced at the thought, slipping into her body suit as she inched her way from the bed. And three, well, the difference in age was enough to cause alarm. A thirty- and fifty-year old? That would <em>definitely</em> not sit well with Luna Nova. And—</p><p>Oh, by the Nine. Damn everything. Chariot's eyes widened as she snatched her uniform from the ground. <em>Fuck. FUCK. </em></p><p>Age difference nothing, she slept with her former <em>professor.</em> And when Anne didn't know who she was...whatever, Chariot could wave it off. Ursula, as far as she was concerned, was only Anne's colleague who was just incidentally...younger. Yes, that was the only thing. And she <em>apparently </em>had been <em>hypothetically</em> taught by Professor Finnelan, but she knew how absurd her senior thought of it—especially since Finnelan constantly wore a face of confusion every time it was mentioned.</p><p>Chariot tugged her uniform over her head, her hairband around her wrist. Quickly, she then pulled her hair back and tied it in its loose style, and found her glasses on the bookshelf afterwards to stuff them onto her nose. Miranda's voice chimed through the door again.</p><p><em>Immediately,</em> Ursula plastered herself against the wall, ever so desperately wishing that she could just sink into it. The headmistress hadn't a clue she was there, but even so...</p><p>The weight of her fantasy-turned-reality impaled her through the shoulders.</p><p>Chariot du Nord was a completely different story from Ursula Callistis. Chariot, in the two years, was a student in-and-out of Anne's office. Helping her carry heavy books. Receiving detention. Spending said detention. And Chariot wouldn't ever forget the moment Anne recognized her. She was bewildered beyond belief, and if it wasn't for liquid courage, Chariot would've curled herself into a tightly-knitted ball and simply <em>ceased</em>. But Anne recognized her, and fucked her. Properly. <em>Thoroughly. </em>Surpassing every expectation that Chariot could've ever imagined. Even that seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl wouldn't have believed it. A small part of her doubted she would've ever felt that way if Chariot hadn't accidentally made herself known, nor did she believe that the side she discovered of Finnelan would've been completely unveiled... Which, <em>by the fucking-Nine,</em> was both the most damning and triumphant thing Chariot could've realized.</p><p>A stream of sweat raced down the side of her face, ears straining and eyes wide.</p><p>She heard Miranda's sweet, grandmotherly voice: "Have you had your morning cup of tea, Anne? We could talk the semester over that, if you want."</p><p>Chariot could—like—throw herself out the window, right? She'd be able to land the fall. </p><p>Well, no. She <em>would</em> land it, but Miranda would hear that, and Finnelan would definitely strangle the life out of her for demolishing a good portion of her suite. So she had to stay. Well fuck.</p><p>"Oh, I would love to, but I haven't even set it up yet," Anne said, and Chariot heard the displaced anxiety in her voice.</p><p><em>Headmistress, hi! Hello! Uh, good morning! Yeah, well, I... Fuck. I am here because... Because... </em>Chariot couldn't breathe. She was suffocating herself as she scoured to find some reasonable explanation for it all. And with that suffocation, her hair bleached itself into its blue. <em>I'm in here, and I have been hiding— Wait, no, I just didn't notice you, I was in the bathroom. Yes! I was going across campus, and I needed to use the bathroom, and Anne— Err, Professor Finnelan was right here...even though there's a bathroom right down the hall— Shit. Shit. Shit. Uh— </em></p><p>"Oh no, it's okay, Anne! The more time we have then!" Well <em>fuck.</em></p><p><em>Truth is, I am hiding, and I slept with Anne, and she knows who I am now. And she didn't care. She really, really didn't care, and I absolutely didn't give a shit. When it should've ended, the sex only got better</em><em>—</em> She snatched her wand from her hip and hissed a fumbled incantation with wide eyes. Finnelan's protests didn't deter Headmistress Holbrooke, who opened the door further.</p><p>Well. Holy. <em>Fuck.</em></p><p>Both women were oblivious to the quick burst of smoke beside the bookshelf. Anne frowned as she stepped into the room, her eyes wandering, and head turned to the soft pattering of scuttling feet. But nothing. No Chariot. Just her suite.</p><p>Her eyes scanned for the young woman, only to find her bathroom door was still open, her closet hadn't been touched. Just...where was Chariot?</p><p>"Oh, I see I really did wake you up," Miranda said through a chuckle, observing the unmade bed. </p><p>Anne shook her head, her eyes unmoving from Chariot's warm outline in the sheets. "It's no trouble. I should've been up hours ago anyhow." She jerked at the spot, then urged herself to the small table in the corner of the room with her tea kettle. "Anyway, I— Err, I have Earl Grey, if you'd like?"</p><p>"Yes please," Miranda chirped, easing herself at Finnelan's desk chair. Anne sat at the small table, legs crossed, as the kettle hummed above her small enchanted hotplate. Her nervous stare dashed back to the bed, following the headmistress' wonder. "My, I asked you if your bed was to date only weeks ago, Anne! You know you don't have to sleep in the same darn bed for decades on end."</p><p>Finnelan turned herself away and watched the whistling kettle. She internally swore Chariot to the depths of hell for her display of acrobatics. But, then again, it <em>was</em> a good show. Anne coughed before she allowed herself to slip back into the night before. "Oh, it's not that bad..." she mumbled. "I just have to use mending magic, and it'll be good as new."</p><p>"Anne Finnelan! You can't possibly be so attached to the thing!" Miranda said with a surprised smile. "Dear, it's practically sinking to the ground!"</p><p>Perhaps...Anne could ask Chariot for another private show.</p><p>She swiped the growing, satisfied smirk off her face and choked, "It's not that bad!" Anne turned towards the bed (it truly was <em>worse</em>), and gestured towards the pillars. "It is still as strong as always. It's just giving out at the knees."</p><p>"Oh, I understand that," Miranda sighed. She turned to the professor conversationally. "Now, about—"</p><p>"Headmistr—<em>ESS?!</em>"</p><p>Both women yelped and jumped in their seats, necks snapped to the door. Samantha Badcock fell into the room with a groan. She picked herself up, patted her green overcoat, and cleared her throat. "My apologizes. I didn't mean to scream. I only tripped, is all. Miranda? It's about the pond."</p><p>"Is there something wrong?!"</p><p>A great, wide smile beamed across Samantha's lips. "No! Not at all! Lukić tested the tadpole flakes this morning, and the eggs seem to be very healthy! We expect the frogs to live for a long while! I've been wanting to tell you two—and Ursula if she <em>ever</em> gets up from her bed. I knocked on her door for fifteen minutes and <em>no</em> answer! Can you believe it?"</p><p>"Yes," both Miranda and Anne answered in unison.</p><p>Badcock blinked. "I see. Anyhow, I just wanted to share the news! Would you like to see them? They've grown a great deal throughout the week!"</p><p>"Oh, I'd love to! Anne, when you're around? We could have our spot of tea afterwards."</p><p>"The pond isn't going anywhere. I'm sure I'll be able to see them in due time," Anne answered, her mind on <em>other</em> matters. She got to her feet as the headmistress did and followed the women to the door.</p><p>Miranda, over her shoulder, chided, "Now I swear, Anne, if I find out that you've overworked yourself instead of enjoying watching the tadpoles, I will take that bed of yours!"</p><p>"Alright, headmistress," Finnelan grumbled with a soft grin, "I won't."</p><p>For a moment, she watched the two stroll down the hall, chewing the inside of her cheek. Anne eyed either side of the door. Nobody. All was clear.</p><p>She shut the door behind her back with an exhaustive sigh, sunk against it. After a few forced breaths, Anne detached herself and stepped into the room. "Chario—<em> WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING HELL?!</em>" She screamed as a dark rat hopped out from underneath her desk, frantic feet prancing in place and out of their slippers before Anne launched herself backwards into her nightstand. The rat's red eyes widened. It pattered with the same aggravated fear in place, tail tossing and teeth clacking as it let out a small, though elongated, shriek of its own.</p><p>Anne grasped her nightstand for her wand hysterically, and once she snatched it, she jerked its tip to the monstrosity. "HOW DID YOU GET HERE YOU <em>HEATHEN?!</em>" The rat froze, screamed, and continued to titter uncontrollably with piercing squeaks. "MURO—"</p><p>The rat slammed itself nose-first into the ground before smoke burst into the room. Chariot, ripping her face from the wood flooring, yelped erratically, "CRISSE! <em>FUCK </em>IT'S ME! PROFESSOR, IT'S FUCKING <em>ME!</em>"</p><p>With a gasp of breath, Finnelan collapsed against her nightstand, dropped her wand, and held her pounding heart. "What were you <em>doing?!</em>"</p><p>"What do you mean?!" Ursula floundered, scrambled up the bookcase in a panic. "You almost killed me!"</p><p>"<em>You</em> almost killed me!" Professor Finnelan snarled. "I can die from a heart attack, at my age!"</p><p>"So can I!"</p><p>"Why were you a damn <em>rat?!</em>"</p><p>"I needed to hide! And rats are small, and it would be believable!"</p><p>"B-B—!" Anne's grey eyes lit like no other fury. "<em>Believable?!</em> Who do you take me for?! I would <em>never let </em>one of those <em>vermin</em> ten <em>meters</em> from my room!" Ursula raised her hands as Anne stood, fuming. "Next time, a newt!"</p><p>"I-I— A n-newt?"</p><p>"A. NEWT!"</p><p>Ursula nodded vigorously with an audible gulp. "A newt. Okay. I will." She blinked, thoughts reeling. <em>Next time</em><em>...</em> Her heart throbbed. <em>Next time</em><em>...</em></p><p>"Good," Anne breathed, sat on her bed. She ignored its long creak of protest; at that moment, Finnelan decided the young woman would be the one fixing it. She rubbed her temple, paused, then watched her with narrowed eyes. "Ursula...? Do you have rats in the observatory?"</p><p>"Well...uh... They're nice rats. And toilet-trained."</p><p>To say Anne Finnelan was disturbed was an understatement. She choked a laugh, and asked, "Do you have <em>more </em>animals around the campus?" Ursula's eyes widened, and her gaze darted away from Finnelan's. Anne sunk into her hand, and she muffled, "Oh for God's sake, Chariot. That bear's been living here, hasn't he?"</p><p>"Arcas is a very good boy, and he does very well where he is!"</p><p>Anne rubbed her temple tersely with the back of her hand. As she shook her head, Ursula could've sworn she caught a light smile. "What am I going to do with you...?" she murmured quietly. Ursula's smile was tight and sheepish, though Anne found it endearing all the same. They remained in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Ursula rubbing the edge of a bookshelf with Anne resting her chin against folded hands, elbows dug into her knees.</p><p>Quietly, Ursula asked, "'Next...time...?'" Her eyes slipped to Finnelan, who perked to attention. "I thought..." she murmured, a sprite of hope bubbled in her words, "we said...this was the only time?"</p><p>"I, we did." Anne paused, then stood up. "Before last night." She strode to Ursula, who stood, anxiously rooted to the spot. Professor Finnelan took her hands and held them securely within her own. Ursula gasped in a breath, squeezing lightly. Anne couldn't explain the absolute compulsion of this one desire. What this woman brought out of her. Her jaw tightened, and eyes of fire watched her, anticipating. "Chariot..." she breathed, forcing a blush across Professor Ursula's cheeks.</p><p>"Y-Yes, professor?" Chariot whispered.</p><p>This was a mistake formulating, Finnelan knew. Though, for once, could an older woman make a mistake? It was a damning thought, but Anne couldn't help but accept it. "Miranda was right. I had forgotten much of how my youth felt." Chariot watched her with intensity, hung to every word. "And yet," Anne continued, cupping Chariot's jaw with her other arm around her waist; Chariot, with minor hesitance, replied in kind, hands at Finnelan's shoulders. "And yet, you reminded me last night, and I won't forget it." The witch in her arms was breathless, and Finnelan captured her lips with a kiss, sealing her proclamation.</p><p>The moment was tender. Chariot pulled Anne close, hands wrapped along her shoulders, invigorated by the arms snaked around her torso. The sensation of Chariot's hands at the back of her neck sent shivers down her spine, and Anne felt there was no need for a spot of blackened tea that morning. The kettle would just have to sit, and wait. They swayed before Anne gently ushered her to her desk, where Chariot was hoisted up to its surface. Her legs cradled Anne's hips, and a moan escaped Chariot. When the professor leaned over her colleague, planting a firm hand against her desk, Chariot jerked and a weight was clattered to the floor. The picture frame smacked face-down against the wood, and the broken cry of cracked glass interrupted their enthusiasm.</p><p>"A-Anne," Chariot gasped, "your picture..."</p><p>Finnelan barely acknowledged it, kissing down Chariot's neck with her hands rummaging for soft thighs underneath the uniform. "It doesn't matter," she replied through a mutter. "I'll just throw it away when we're done."</p><p>Grey met red, and Chariot blinked with her blush deepening. She inhaled as Anne kissed her again, and her nails dug into her senior's sides. Anne felt Chariot shiver underneath her touch, even through the body suit. Another mistake formulated, though the professor was too enthralled by Chariot du Nord to care. "What do you say we spend the morning together?" she cooed into Chariot's ear. "Starting with a warm shower...?"</p><p>"I-I..." Chariot nodded earnestly. "I'd love that." She giggled as Anne's grip tensed along her thighs, lips peppered against her collar. </p><p>Finnelan then backed away to allow Ursula to slip off the desk, and hand-in-hand, they led themselves to her bathroom—picture completely abandoned. And with a magnificent red bleeding throughout her dull blue hair, Chariot eagerly captured Anne in another, lust-driven embrace, lips connected. Their hearts throbbed in synch, and Anne couldn't even begin to imagine the youth that was pumped into her veins.</p><p>The door was booted closed, and their few hours of passion was unbound, raw and doubtless.</p><p>
  <strong>— — — — — — — — — — — </strong>
</p><p>Down the hall, Professor Ursula walked with class binders to her chest. She smiled to the students as they passed, though she was quiet and detached from making any conversation. And none of the girls seemed to have noticed. They went on with their weekend, eager to get in the town or settle with picnics out in the fields. Nothing remotely related to their studies—or their professors, no matter how polite their smiles were.</p><p>And...Ursula wasn't one to fight against it, not with her fantasy churning over and over again in her mind. Her blush fumed with a passion, and she was once again engrossed to her own thoughts. Such a wicked fantasy. How a menial, harmless crush years and years ago exasperated itself the way it did, Ursula would never know. It was a strange thing how a simple curiosity manifested itself into an unadulterated, sexual hunger.</p><p>She tightened her lips; they were still heavy from the kisses that haunted them. Ursula could still feel her hands wander along her body, exploring her curves. And the water, it was still soaked in her skin even countless long hours afterwards. Ursula paused by a column, leaned against it with her thoughts aflame. <em>I loved it</em><em>...</em> Her thoughts echoed, and she closed her eyes briefly. The sex that came with the blue moon—the proclaimed <em>just this once</em> on the 13th of Friday—still invigorated her.</p><p>Ursula turned to the window as a bird flew past, expression soft. And further down the hall, she caught sight of Anne as she strode dutifully across, barely acknowledging the students. Grey eyes were captured, and they lingered only for a moment.</p><p>And in that moment, before it passed, Chariot knew—she knew with all of her heart, she <em>knew</em>—that Anne Finnelan was taken by her. That, somehow, someway, Chariot du Nord lured herself a lover she could barely fathom nor explain.</p><p>But she didn't question it, no. Chariot only swallowed her words, sealing them away until the next fickle moon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I may or may not be debating into making this my (first) three-shot. So. Uh. Hmm. </p><p>But…did I do it? Shall it sail?</p><p>…</p><p>Alright, hope you enjoyed!<br/>:D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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